I felt pretty special to be sitting in the front seat on the way to school. Mom never let me sit up front, but Dad didn't mind it much as long as I buckled up. I loved how Dad drove. He had a lead foot and loved speed as did I.
It was silent in the car, and I hated it. After a period of long silence I reached up for the volume knob and turned the music up. After a few seconds, Dad turned it back down. "Hey, I like that song, Dad," I said though I really didn't recognize the song. I just hated the dead air.
"First grade, huh?" he said half-smiling at me. "You're getting old." I just smiled and nodded my head, silence almost came instantly again. The trees and houses we were passing seemed to be going by more slowly. Dad was slowing down.
"I'm going to miss you." I cocked my head back and nudged him in the shoulder. "Dad, Mom is dropping me off at your house tonight. I'll see you then." More silence as we pulled up to the elementary drop-off. We gently rolled to a hault. He parked the car and got out and came to my side. I hopped out of the car and we started for the door. Dad never walked me to the door, but yet I can't say I didn't like it. It was just weird, he was being weird.
We made it to the front door, and I reached for the handle to walk in, but Dad stopped me. He kneeled down next to me and looked in my eyes. A tear began to form in the corner of his eye until it began to trickle down his face.
"I love you, Son." I reached up and grabbed his cheek and wiped the tear from his cheek. He hugged me tightly and when we finally un-clinged from each other, I pulled back and put my hand on his shoulder.
"You're being kinda silly, Dad. But I love you too." With that he got up and walked to the car. I turned and walked through the door, not knowing that that would be the last time I would see him alive.
I sat there on the porch after school ended, waiting for my mother. Two hours had elapsed. My teacher came out and told me she got ahold of my mother and that she would be here shortly. Sure enough my mother came around the corner and pulled up to the drop-off.
She looked awful. Smeared makeup on her face was noticeable, and so were her puffy eyes. She had been crying. I know she had been.
Later that night, I learned that my father committed suicide. Fire burned my heart, and pain immensely took over my body. I cherished his last words to me, "I love you."
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