December 28. Ferb slept most of the time. More IVs were attached. It just hurts me to see him going between life and death. I would fourteen alone. Survive high school alone. Walk down graduation alone. Before, we were two lively boys looking towards the clear future. Now we were two different boys with life and death as a barrier and a blurred future.
I walked outside. Just walking around, not knowing what to do. I continued walking until I realized where I was. In a cemetary in front of a grave. I tried to read it. The writing was worn down but a picture was still intact. I looked at the picture and knew who the grave belonged to. My father.
I remembered the last time I saw him alive. It was almost ten years ago, but still vivid.
“I’m being a bad mother?! You’re being the bad one!”