Hope, Dreams and Days

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Oh, blissful sleep
That hides reality from veiw,
Relive my pain for these few hours
Hopefully the morning will bring a sweet,
Dream-like state as the night does
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"Chelsea. Chelsea, wake up."
"What is it, Mom?" I saw her tears the moment my eyes opened. What a horrible sight to wake up to and a horrible feeling, too. I could tell as soon as her fingers brushed my arm that something terrible had happened; Something that could shake the very foundations of my life. Yet what I thought would only shake them would actually my life out from under my feet and a sickening free fall would ensue.
Why, oh why, does tragedy never leave me be?
I just finished my first year - and my worst year - with my parents split up, and I was finally used to it. My parents were dating others, there were new people, new situations, and I was finally ready to relax and just live my new life, but again, tragady strikes and my hour of peace is ruined. Why, oh God, why?
"Chelsea your dad, he...he was in a car accident last night"
"Is he okay!? Oh, please tell me he's just in the hospital!" Tears were already falling and I began to get hysterical. "Please, Mom, please just tell me that!"
"Chels, Chels, shh...He...he didn't make it."

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Oh lamentable day
That hides hope from veiw
Please tell me you only jest
And poke fun at my greatest fear
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"No! No, no, no, no,..." I continued untill I could no longer form words. "It's not true! It's not true! It's just one bad dream. It's just a dream. He can't die. It's impossible!"
I cried for an hour before my mom took me to my dad's neighbor and best friend, Kathy. She was always like a second mother, so sweet and caring, yet tough. Kathy didn't fight life or what it did to her, and she helped us all cope with the worst times. Without her I don't know if I would have made it though that day.
I sat in Kathy's kitchen with our closest family, and friends so close they were, too, like kin. We hugged, cried and told stories of fond memories; Some so recent we could almost touch them some so long ago I wasn't there, but with such vivid detail that I could see it. The very worst part was all of us expecting my dad to walk in at any moment and solve our crisis like he always did. No one expected it, but that was my dad; Always one step ahead of the rest.
I held a conversation in my mind with God. I said "God, how could you do this to me? I'm only fourteen! Have mercy, please. God, if you love me, let it just be a dream." Too bad it wasn't.
Three days later I stood in the cold November wind at the Hudson Veiw Cemetary, at fourteen years old, to bury my dad, my hero. Not an hour earlier I stood before everyone I loved to deliver a eulogy for the small-town hero.
"I think my dad would love that we can sit around, tell stories and laugh together; That we're not spending our time crying. But one thing I've noticed is that everyone's using phrases like 'he likes' and 'he is' not 'he liked' or 'he was'. I think that's because deep down we all know that he's sitting here, listening and laughing right along.
I know we all have some wonderful memories. We all thought there would be more - more stories, more of his crazy adventures - but now it's up to us to continue on our own adventures and make our own stories, in his memory.
And next time you hear a story of Kevin Ingraham, just listen with your heart and you'll hear, too, his laughter above everyone elses, like it always was."

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May lamentable days and sweet dreams
converge to save one from the pain
That life would so bestow upon all it sees
The greatest gift and curse is that at
The darkest hour hope flies giving one
The courage to walk on only to find another
Tragady in a vicious cycle that never ends
But blessed is one who catches hope
And never lets it leave
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