I remember seeing him on the floor, stepping over the colored vomit and walking to the door where my Grandma knocked violently.

I remember her face when the door opened- seeing her son on the floor like that. She thought he was dead. God… we all did.

Me and my two sisters- me being only nine, both sisters younger- we didn’t know what to do at the time. Looking back, there was so much I could’ve done.

We watched as she dialed 911, how she tried to keep her composure. I remember how she told me and my sister to get ready to go.

I watched as they loaded him onto the gurney and folded him into the back of the ambulance, the lights flashing, sirens roaring.

“Tell daddy bye,” she said.

And so we did.

Those were the last words I told him. And he didn’t even hear them. I remember how we rode in Grandma’s car, how her fingers shook as she buckled my smallest sister into her carseat.

I remember how she asked us what happened. She listened, tears in her eyes as she sped to the hospital, calling her husband on the way.

“Something’s wrong with Ed,” she had said.

Me and my middle sister exchanged a look- a mix between horror and fear. I remember how quiet it was in the hospital.

Me and my sisters hadn’t ate in two days, that’s how long he’d been out of it, that’s how long he’d been sick. He was hurt bad. And no one knew why.

They brought us a huge platter of eggs, biscuits, grits and bacon with a slice of sausage. They also brought us Barbies to play with while they watched over daddy.

I remember when Grandma left the room and came back, how her eyes were puddled in shimmery tears and she told us he was going to be airlifted to a hospital in the capital of our state.

“He’s gunna be okay,” she whispered as she kissed us each on the forehead, sniffling.

And so the five of us loaded into the car and sped down the interstate, the helicopter always in view.

“When he,” she smiled sadly, trying to be happy, “when he wakes up, we’ll have to tell him that he flew. He’ll never believe it.”

“He’ll be so happy,” I remember murmuring, watching the chopper in the air.

At one point it disappeared, reaching the hospital before we could. Everyone started sniffling then. The radio had been cut off, the car filled in deadly silence.

Reaching the hospital and parking in a huge, stacked car building, we got out and walked inside. I remember commenting on how huge it was. I remember seeing all of the sick people walking in the hallways and feeling sorry for them.

Turns out daddy was in the emergency room- the intensive care unit. At the time I didn’t know what this meant, so I sat and played with my Barbie. We sat out in a white hallway. We were the only ones there. Which I thought was strange, but never questioned it.

Hours later, my dad’s half sister shows up. A pretty lady with a boyfriend with huge jaws that stuck out. I always laughed to myself at how funny he looked. She held me and let me play with her beautiful, long red hair.

God… I liked her so much, I never thought she’d steal my dad’s house and never let us go back again.

A pastor also came. He was a short, funny looking man, with huge ears and a small smile, which me and my sister thought was hilarious. He gave me a light up pen to play with because I wouldn’t stop asking questions.

I remember being hungry and asking for food. I was given two dollars. I went to a snack machine down the white hallway and bought a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos. I ate half the bag and tied it up, saving it for later.

Two days were spent in that hospital. Two agonizing days, where no one knew what was wrong. Grandma always went into the back with daddy, but me and my sisters weren’t allowed.

“Only the grownups,” they told us.

We were mad that we couldn’t see our daddy. That’s all we wanted to do; just to see him so he could make us laugh and we wouldn’t feel sad all the time.

And two days later, we were buzzed into the rooms at the back. The woman at the desk looked at us and told us we weren’t allowed. The grownups were crying harder now as they explained we were called in by the doctors.

She gave us one small, sad smile. I turned to my sister and squealed. After all, we were going to see him and he was okay.

We walked down twisted aisles, we could hear people crying in the closed stalls. It was probably the most miserable place I’d ever been in.

Me and my sister were jumping up and down and trying to peek in all the stalls to see which one was daddy. But instead, we were led to a room were a nurse opened a door with no windows and let us inside.

I looked around.

What? No daddy? Where is he?

Instead, crying people sat. I blinked, then ran to my Grandma with my sister, and crawled into her lap.

“Where’s daddy? I thought…” I trailed.

“Your daddy… he- he left us. He passed away,” she whispered, tears spilling.

My hero, my dad, my friend, my life, my world. He died and everything darkened. Now an orphan, both my parents dead, I would struggle for a home and be abused in both.

Never, ever waste a second to tell someone you love them. Because you never know how much they mean to you until they’re gone. Take each moment as a blessing, never take one for granted.