It was a Friday the night his lung collapsed. I remember because my dad and I were at a Friday Night Live. I had my hair all done up, and I had a scarf on, which is something I usually didn't do, but my hair was pretty long (for me) and I felt like wearing a scarf for some reason.
My aunt came over to my dad, and they were quietly talking, and I had a headache. I also had a hard time standing, and I should have been home in bed. I didn't really know what was supposed to happen after your lung collapses. Does the other one keep working on its own? How long can you live that way?
When I woke up the next morning, I was in so much abdominal pain that I could barely get out of bed. I walked up to the living room to tell my parents I had to go to the doctor, and they were all sitting around staring at the floor.
Then they told me that he died. I don't even remember if I cried. I think the crying was later on. I even went to church that night, because everything was completely surreal. I did powerpoint and maybe that was when I cried.
Then, that Sunday, we took off in an airplane and its a funny thing to look down on the clouds and wonder about God, and where He is. Is He in outerspace?
That week was a blur of hotels and freezing cold, my grandmother crying, absense of music, of me taking pills and crying a lot, and sitting on the couch, expecting him to come through the door at anytime. To tell us it was all just a joke. To just be home from work, or to just come home from the grocery store with ice cream sandwiches.
Because the last time I saw him, he was strong. He was standing at the door with my grandma, waving goodbye, and nothing was that wrong. Drugs can mask anything for a while.

I don't know what's brought on all the memories. Maybe it's this headache.