Saturday, January 18, 2014


I am lying on the top of an old beat up Beetle.

I am staring at the sky as the stars begin to appear.

I have left the house and slipped out without being noticed.

I am tired of the people, tired of the crying and tired of everyone talking about my dad.

I just want my dad back again.


My brother is not around, he is three years older than me and he can fend for himself.

My mom is inside the house being consoled by all the people who have showed up.

I don’t remember having this many people at our house before.


As I look at the stars through my tears, I think of a life without my dad.

He will never see me graduate from school.

He will never see me get married.

He will never see his grandchildren.


I will never laugh again.

My dad was the one who made me laugh.

He always had a joke.

He never failed to see the funny side of things.

How can I ever laugh again?


Why did I want to go swimming so badly?

Why didn’t I just jump in the canal and make him happy?

Why did he want so badly to see me happy that he took that dangerous risk?


How can a boy live without a dad?


The only home I have ever known is surrounded by his things.

It sits adjacent to the salvage yard he often worked in.

It’s right next to the wrecker company he drove for, and often took us with him on calls.

There are oil and paint stains on the concrete driveway that are like medals pinned to his chest.

I am lying next to the fence that I crashed into when he taught me to ride a bike.

The desert that surrounds us will always remind me of his sand buggies and motor bikes.

His life is woven into mine with memories that are now haunting.


How will my mom take care of us?

How can she provide the things dad worked three jobs to provide for us?

Where is God?


I suddenly realize, I am no longer a kid.

This horrible tragedy has aged me and I can never go back.

I don’t want to play with toys ever again.

I don’t want to act like a child.

I just want my dad back.


I don’t remember going to bed that night.

I don’t remember how I even got to sleep.

My memories stop at that moment, on the roof of that car and do not start again until his funeral.

Now I have been given the answers to most of my questions.

I did graduate.  I got married.  I am father to a wonderful son.  I know where my Heavenly Father is and He takes care of me…

but I will always have these memories.

Roy Leman Cagle with text