Back in August, my papa was sitting in his wheelchair in the dining room. He
was looking up at the map where he and my dad had placed stickers to show
which states they had gone to. My papa was only missing two states. He had
never gone to Oklahoma or Minnesota. It was hard for him to pick up objects,
but he asked me to hand him a quarter. When he let go of it, it fell to the
floor. It landed on tails, which he had decided meant that he would be going
to Oklahoma. I think he knew that he didn’t have very much time left,
because that is where he died. He was sitting in a blue camping chair,
watching the sunset with his favorite people. My dad was sitting on his
right, and I was sitting on his left. Grandma Daphne, Aunt Cooper, Uncle
Currian, and my cousins, Nash, Osmond, and Thatcher were all there too. Even
though we knew that it was going to happen, it was sad, especially since I
was there to see it. Still, I’m glad that he was looking at something so
beautiful when it happened, instead of just staring up at the ceiling, or
something.
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