Hey guys! I have to warn you, this is kinda sad I guess. So yeah, read at your own risk. I just had to get this off of my chest.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Gallagher Girls, and I basically just used the names.

-1 Year

Cammie

2 years ago—

"Mom why didn't you wake me up, I'm going to be late to school!" I yelled as I ran down the stairs of my house. I just woke up from my peaceful sleep to find that I was supposed to be on the bus about twenty minutes ago.

"I know, I'm going to take you to school a little late today. Go up and get dressed, we need to talk to you." She replied from the oven where she was cooking what looked like eggs for our breakfast. That was when I first knew something was wrong. Then turning around and walking back up the stairs I noticed dad sitting at the table, which was even more wrong because he was supposed to be at work. I brushed it off and walked up the stairs.

After getting dressed I walked back down to the kitchen where my brother Grant was already sitting at the table eating his eggs, no one said a word. Now was when I really noticed something was wrong, my mom and brother were normally always loud and rambunctious, while my dad and I were the quiet ones. But today we were all quiet.

"Kids, we need to tell you something." My mom explained, putting down her fork and looking at me and my brother.

"What is it Mom?" I asked getting up to get a glass of tea from the refrigerator.

"Your dad has brain cancer," she said. I would say that it was nothing new and I had seen it coming but that would have been a lie. I should have noticed that something was wrong since he had been in the hospital for the past couple days, they just told us that he had a blood clot in his lung.

1 year and 2 weeks ago—

I was pretending to sleep when I heard my mom and dad talking downstairs. They had said months ago that the chemo was done and he was cured. They had lied to me, the cancer was back and it was worse than ever.

The next day when my mom picked me up from school I confronted her about it. She said that he did in fact have cancer again, and it was worse. The doctors had told them that only 6% of people diagnosed with this type of cancer were ever completely healed. The time frame the doctors gave us was six months to six years. I figured that I had hopefully six years at least with him, so he could come to my graduation; little did I know that next week he would be gone.

The next night I had a nightmare. It was about my dad dying, in the dream he decided to commit suicide and went to the hospital to get a shot that would kill him. After he took the shot he was able to come home for an hour. I was standing beside him as he was laying face down on the couch waiting to die; I cried my eyes out and hugged him. I started yelling at him for leaving me and without saying anything he just turned his back to me and shrugged me away.

That was when I woke up crying. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep so I went over to my parents bedroom to talk with my mom, I didn't want to wake my dad up. But when I got to their room I noticed that my dad was already up. He saw me crying and asked what was wrong; I just said that I wanted to talk to mom. Thinking back on it I wish that I had talked to him about it. I didn't even tell my mom that night for fear that it would come true, and he would die.

That weekend my dad took his first dose of the new medicine he was on and was a little loopy. After we got home from school we went into the room he was in and saw him lying on the bed, he couldn't even tell that we were there because he was hallucinating so badly. My mom had decided that we should go out and spend time with our friends so Grant and I were going to our best friend's house. The first night we were there was ok, but I was a little uneasy about the whole thing. The next day we were supposed to go home, but my mom called and said they were at the hospital, and that my dad had some seizures. She played it down like it was nothing so I just went on like normal for the day.

That night I was awoken my friends dad at around 12:00. He said that we were going to the hospital to see my dad, and I knew that it was bad. I didn't even get time to change out of my pj's. We got into the car and drove to our house where our family was supposed to be waiting for us. They weren't there so my friend's dad decided that he would just take us to the hospital. We got halfway there and had to turn around because my family finally arrived at the house and they wanted us to go with them.

I noticed right away that my dad was either dead or dying then, but in the car filled with my family whom I didn't even know were coming, they didn't say a word about it to Grant and I. I felt bad for my brother because no one had told him that dad's cancer was even back. When we got there we were escorted to a private waiting room that held even more of my family. Minutes later my mom came limping in. She was crying and couldn't talk, she couldn't really even walk. Once she finally got her voice back she announced to us that my dad was dead. I was shell shocked, I had only known for about a week, and was told that I had at least half a year left with him.

I was a daddy's girl thru and thru. I even let him take me out hunting and fishing when I would rather be sleeping. I would hug him until he pulled away, which was sometimes minutes later. He was the person I was most like in the world, I liked the stuff he liked, we looked alike, and we acted alike. I spent as much time with him as I could even before I found out that he had cancer. I loved him so much, and he was just gone.

That night we went home and all cried ourselves to sleep. The next day we all met and my grams house for the whole day. My mom still had problems walking, and my uncle was carrying smelling salts around in his pocket in case she passed out.

Now I really hate crying, and I hate watching people cry, it kinda just makes me mad. So having to hear the women of the family minus me in the backroom wailing their eyes out set me on edge. I took my brothers arm and led him downstairs, where we watched TV to get our minds off of it.

The next day was the viewing. In the coffin he looked like he was wearing make-up which he would have never liked even in death. That night I had to deal with people who I had never met before come up and tell me that they knew how I felt and that they were sorry for my loss. I honestly wanted to grab a bat and beat the crap out of the whole lot of them. I only cried once that night, I was really trying not to think about the fact that my dad was dead and I was never getting him back.

The next day at the memorial service I did cry as I sat in the second isle in the church and listened to my uncle talk about me and my dad's relationship. Then at the burial I sat there and watched his casket being lowered into the ground by some of his close friends. We each got a flower and a feather from the bouquet of flowers that was sitting on top of his coffin. For the rest of the month I cried myself to sleep almost every night.

Present time—

It's been almost a year since my dad died. I miss him like crazy and I still haven't really registered the fact that he's gone and never coming back, I still cry all the time about it. A couple weeks after he died I even started crying on the bus, but they were silent tears, and when I cry, unless it's really bad my face doesn't get red, and my eyes just look watery, so no one could tell.

People have forgotten about the fact that my dad's dead, and I involuntary flinch even now when people at school talk about their dads. Then some of my friends say that they don't like their dads and they haven't talked to them in like a month. It makes me mad, I mean they have dads right there and they can talk to them whenever they want to but they don't. I don't have a dad here anymore and I want to talk to him every second of every day, it just doesn't work that way.