Sad Weekend

I was haunted by a dream Friday night. The same dream I've had every August 17th night for 10 years now. It starts by seeing my real father lying in a "hospital" bed in our living room. It's bed time and my dad hugs me real tight, tighter than normal and says "goodnight Olivia, I love you so very much. Always know that I love you." I hugged him fiercely in return and said "goodnight daddy, I love you too, see you in the morning." He didn't say he would see me in the morning. He just hugged me tighter, kissed my forehead, and sent me to bed. I awoke in the night August 17th 2002 from a terrible nightmare that my daddy had died but I didn't get up and go check on him. I woke up August 18th to see all my family surrounding my fathers bed and ran to his side and kept repeating to him "wake up daddy, wake up, it's time to wake up daddy" over and over again I repeated it until I ran outside when my mother told me that God took him in the night. The dream ends but the reality doesn't. My daddy died that night of 3 different cancers; Liver, Pancreatic, and Bone. I watched him suffer, my Super Hero, suffer for 6 long months until God mercifully took him Home. I was 9 at the time and didn't quite understand but knew that my life was changing drastically. At that very moment I had to grow up, at that very moment I didn't get to have a childhood anymore, at that moment my life ended and a new one began. My mother was single and raising 2 children, me and then my older sister. She was going down a terrible road that would take her almost 10 years to get her life straight. From drugs. As I grew up I became a recluse in my life, never opening up to anybody, becoming a hard, hateful, and soulless person so I would never get hurt again. I buried all my memories from my childhood and to be honest I don't remember much before the age of 16. I am now 19... I can remember bits and pieces of my life before I was 16 but ONLY bits and pieces. 16 years of my life buried. 16 years of my life pretty much erased from my memory. My family wonders all the time where their little sweet girl went but that girl died a long time ago. August 18th was the 10 year anniversary of my fathers death. My mom, sister, and myself went to the cemetery where my father is buried and while my sister balled and my mom cried a little I stood strong and held them both saying a quick prayer that I hopefully am making my father proud. For 10 years I have had that dream and I'm sure I'll always have it the night before the anniversary. Maybe, just maybe, I'm making my father proud. I still ask myself the same question: "Why didn't you go check on him?"