• I sit on the warm bench, the sun's rays beating down on my back, and look eye level upon the gravestone, reaching a shakey hand out i touch the tip, "daddy." the words are hard to get out, they feel like they are suffocating me. I struggle to get a hold of my emotions praying that they will subside, I hate this feeling, this twisting knot in my stomach, tying its way into my throat, "Daddy I am sorry." the guilt, the dreaded guilt, climbs its way up my senses, tingling clawing, digging into my brain, subsiding into the last picture I have of my father, Clinging to it, I fall to the ground, my knees hitting the soft country earth, the tears fall down my tanned cheeks, my hazel eyes becoming a clear sea green.
    The sun beats down evaportaing the tears out of the earth, I lean my head against the hard cold headstone, "daddy I didn't mean to kill you!" I scream, my voice echoes off the dying trees, towards the river so far below me, i kick and poud the earth with my bare hands, the edges of cements and rock piercing and cutting into my hands, Blood twirls and mashes with dirt, creating a dirty mess of brownish- red, i examine them but can feel no pain, nothing but the blistering guilt. I settle down and lean against the headstone, letting my body, exhausted and tired, lul into nothing, for a few breif moments I am just there, not living nor dead, just there.
    Then the guilt comes back, 'I am sorry daddy I prayed that you would stop suffering I didn't mean that way.' I thought to myself the pain I had been holding for several years came out, I drug my knees to my stomach and cried into my blue jeans, the pain the hurt, the hatred, for loosing the one most important man in my life gone, and all because of me.
    Because of me my brother is hurting, because of me my mother is hurting, because of me my father is in the coffin when he should be with me