My father once told me that if a day comes that he has to leave before I do, I was never to cry. I was never to shed even a single tear. For a tear means sadness, and him passing away didn’t mean that. It meant that he was free from this world, free from the pains and the harsh reality of life.
But how was I supposed to stop myself from crying when the one and only family I had left, the one person that taught me everything, the person who I went home to everyday and sang me lullabies to sleep, was now... gone?
I ran and ran to the hospital room he was in. Every step I took was getting heavier and heavier as more and more of my tears flowed down my cheeks. I knew every corner to take, every room to pass by, every nurse in the station, all the way to get to his room. How could I not when
