by Lenard Soie
Parting with a loved one is hard, but what about one not so loved? (290 words)
| It's hard to believe we were in this position, it was like the north and south poles had reversed and I was now standing in the middle on Antarctica. My father was lying in bed in front of me, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling in short and laboured breaths. The nurses had cleared out to leave me alone to have a few words with him. They were to be my last words to him but no one would dare say that. It was an opportunity to say goodbye to a person that never even bothered to say hello to me. If it wasn't for my mother he would definitely have cast me out onto the street long before I had left on my own.He was a cruel man and now he was about to die, and I was going to be the person to help usher him to that fate.
He was my very own flesh and blood and yet I could not feel the same kind of sadness I had felt when my mother had passed. I certainly could not rejoice, after all, he was only a human and had faults just as I do today. My only feelings were empathy because of the poor conditions at which he had to spend his final hours. His hands were bound by the nurses only a few minutes ago because he scratched at his skin like he was covered in fleas, causing red painful sores all over his face and arms. I said nothing and left him to solitude and silence. He had met his fate and it was deserving of a man so cold and heartless in life, a fate that I was next in line for.