Just came across a story I wrote when I was about 11 or 12 years old. My writing style is the same, but it's a little choppy. Kinda the saddest thing i've ever read too...lol.
THREE LITTLE WORDS
“Luke, Lucas? It is time to get up. We are going to Grandma Brenton’s house for lunch.”
It was my mother calling. I hated it! I was in a deep sleep. When I’m woken up, it is always when my dreams are getting good.
My name is Luke Brenton. I live in Helena, Montana. It is a small town in the hills. I am eleven years old and I attend Brookville Elementary School and play for the Helena Squelchers.
“Come on Luke it is time to go”. My mother, she is the early bird. Always up, perky, and ready to go. I also have a little brother, Joel who is three.
When I got downstairs, my family was ready to go, even my father. Oh yeah, I haven’t told you much about him. Well, I don’t like to talk about him much, but he is an alcoholic (when he tries to hit me, I get scared. However, mom says he loves me anyway, but I disagree. He has never said, “I love you” to me – ever!).
At grandma Brenton’s house, grandpa Brenton was in his workshop working on model airplanes and grandma was cooking lunch. Grandma and grandpa have a yellow Labrador retriever, who’s name is Chase. I love Chase a lot because we don’t have any pets at my house. When lunch started, the whole family was at the table, my mother started talking.
“It’s a beautiful day isn’t it Gary?” (that’s my dad’s name).
“Yeah – whatever!”
How about we all go to a park and take a walk?” my mother suggested.
"Sure", everyone agreed. That is except my father.
“No, no, no. You all know I have work to do, therefore after lunch we are going home.”
“What!?” I said, “I thought we were going to go fishing dad? You said, “just me and you”. I said with a lump in my throat.
“No, Luke we are going home!”
“ But dad!”
“No buts Luke”, now you listen!”
I didn’t realize this, but when I looked down, a tear dropped onto my plate.
“Oh don’t cry dear.” my grandma started in.
“No, just leave me alone. Everyone leave me alone.”
“Lucas” said my father, “you don’t talk back, now I know you wanted to go fishing, but you can just forget it.”
I started to cry all over again. My father got up and left the table, but as he got up, I heard him mumble, “baby”. Whenever my family does this, my little brother Joel cries also. So here we are, in someone else’s house, Joel and me crying, my mother in shock, and dad banging on the wall in anger.
When we got home, I went straight to my room and plopped on my bed. I thought about how crummy our family is and about my best friend Marty and how much his family loves each other, a lot.
“Luke…! Would you care for some corn?” asked Marty’s dad Mr. Johnson.
“Huh…? Oh sorry Mr. Johnson I was just thinking about…” I faded. “About what, Sport?”
“Well, about,” I stuttered. “about my father”.
“I am so sorry dear”, said Mr. Johnson.
About ten minutes later, Joel walked in and asked if I wanted to play catch. We played until dinnertime and then all of a sudden we heard my mother scream (this happened just as quickly as I am telling you).
Joel and I rushed to the scene. My father was lying on the floor with ten empty whiskey bottles around him.
He was screaming, “My heart, it hurts! Help!” My mother and Joel were crying and were in shock. I was the only one “down-to-earth” and dialed 911.
When the lady answered, I calmly tried to tell her what had happened.
“Alright dear, tell your family to stay calm and the paramedics will be there shortly.”
When I hung up, my father started to lose conscientiousness. My mother was holding his head up on her lap and stroking his hair calmly. Joel, who was standing in shock, ran quickly to my side. Soon enough the paramedics were at our house and carrying my father out to the ambulance.
At the hospital, the nurse had us wait in the waiting room, just until they got my dad situated. Finally, we went in and Joel, holding his teddy tight, started to cry. I hugged him close.
“Hey Gary,” started mom, “you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess. Did you bring the boys along?”
“Yes” replied my mother.
“Hey dad, how’s it going?” I said.
“Daddy? Are you g-going to d-die?”
“Son, I’m not go-“ “Gary Brenton’s room, right?” interrupted the doctor, Dr. Henshaw.
“How is he doctor?” asked my mother.
“Well, it looks like if he makes it through the night, then he’ll be good to go. We just ask that you folks go on home and get some rest. We will take great care of Gary and call you if anything comes up.”
“Oh, I thought we could stay and spend the night.” suggested mom.
“No!” cried Joel. “I don’t want to stay, it makes me too sad.”
Poor kid, must be too tough on him.
“Well alright kids, I guess we better get going. Bye Gary,” mom said as she kissed him and gave him an extra big hug.”
“Bye-bye daddy, I love you”, said Joel, giving dad a kiss and hug also.
“Bye dad,” I said.
“What’s the matter Luke? Aren’t you going to give you ole’ man a kiss, or even a hug?”
“I think I am a little too big for that, I mean I am almost twelve.”
“Come on over here and give me a hug Luke, come on!”
“No thanks dad.”
“Luke come on, I might die tonight so give me one last hug.”
“Gary, don’t say that in front of your children.” said my mother.
“Well, I am Marie! I am going to die!”
“Gary, all right now no one is going to die. We are going to leave now and let you get some rest, come on kids.”
When we got home, we all got our pajamas on and piled into mom’s bed.
Joel said, “Mommy, I don’t want daddy to die.”
“Oh now sweetheart, don’t say that, everything will be okay, we just have to say our prayers.”
Soon enough Joel was asleep, then mom and then me.
“Ring, ring!” I wake up just in time to hear mom say, “hello!”. Then I looked at the clock 4:00AM.
“Oh no”, I thought, thinking that it was Dr. Henshaw calling about dad. My heart started to race and soon enough my mom hung up. Joel and I listened wide-eyed and ears open.
“Your father is having heart problems and the doctors are not sure if he will make it. He said that they were doing all they could and that we should come down if we wanted to.” So we all got dressed in worn out jeans and fuzzy sweatshirts and got into the car.
At the hospital my dad was laying in his bed wide-eyed. When we went in, he started to mumble. The doctor said to go in one at a time in order to keep him from getting dizzy. Mom went in with Joel and started talking with dad. I heard them, but couldn’t figure out what they were saying. Next, it was my turn. I was right at the doorway and my hands got sweaty, my legs got wobbly and weak. I finally managed to step forward and walk to his bedside.
“Dad?” I started.
“Luke, look son, I am sorry I got upset with you last night.” dad wheezed.
“Oh no, its perfectly alright dad, you were just scared.”
Dad gasped. He was having another heart attack and he gripped my hand tightly.
“Dad?! Let me go get help!”
“No Luke, stay-.” He then squeezed tighter on my hand and I wined.
I couldn’t think of anything to say and the only words that came out were three little words,
“I love you.”
I hadn’t said that in years.
My dad still squeezed my hand and said, “I love you too Luke, don’t ever forget that.”
“Wow,” I thought.
Suddenly, my dad lay still. It was like his whole body shutdown and I started to cry.
Then I put my arms around him and gave him a little sweet kiss on his cheek – just as he wished.
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