"Owen Milligan, to the office please."
Owen's heart dropped. His mom said she would take him out of school if things took a turn for the worst with his dad. Could this be the call he'd been dreading for the past year? He bit his lip, and began to pack up the stuff that was on his desk. Riley, who sat beside him, gently smacked him on the arm.
"What's up bro? Why are you leaving?" Riley asked with true concern.
"I… I don't know," he stammered, his whole body quivering as he walked out of the classroom door. He walked down the hall to the office, where he saw his mom sitting.
"Mom… What's going on?" Owen asked.
"Just come on, Owen. I'll explain it in the car," she responded, her voice shaking as if she was holding back tears.
The walk to the car was stuck in an uncomfortable silence. As soon as they got into the car, Owen gave his mom a sharp look that said tell-me-what's-going-on-before-I-explode-with-anticipation. She took a deep breath and smacked her lips.
"Owen… I got a call from the hospital this morning. They said your dad isn't doing so well. He didn't respond too great to the chemo, so they put him on these meds… Usually when they do that, it means the patient… Isn't going to live much longer. So I called the school immediately after to get you, and right after I hung up with them, the hospital called me back…" she said, before bursting into uncontrollable sobs. It took all of Owen's willpower not to pull his mom into his arms and comfort her.
"What happened, Mom? Is he alright?" he pressed, fighting burning tears of his own.
"No, Owen… He died literally within seconds of hanging up with me."
He could feel his heart shattering in his chest. This was all so surreal to him. His dad died? No. He didn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. But he knew it was true, and he knew he couldn't avoid it forever. He held his head in his hands and kept telling himself this was just a dream. No, not a dream. A cruel, sick nightmare.
"D-d-d-dead? Are they sure?" Owen stammered, raising his head to look into the eyes of his mother.
"Positive. There was no way they could get his pulse back. They tried everything. They wouldn't give up, I promise you that. And your dad wouldn't have given up if he had a choice. He was that much of a fighter," she assured.
Owen pulled his mother close to him and held her in his arms. He tried to soothe her by whispering sweet words of comfort into her ear, but nothing could help. He could easily understand why. It felt like there was a hole, a void in his heart that couldn't be filled. And what hurt him the most was the fact that he never got to say goodbye. His last memory of his dad was seeing him, in pain, at the hospital the day before, entangled in countless cords and needles. He hated seeing him that way, and was slightly thankful that he was out of his misery now. But that didn't make the pain any less blatant. He felt a sharp pang in his heart. He suddenly realized he had so many things he didn't say and wish he could've said. He wished he still had the chance to tell his dad he loved him. And he wished his dad could've lived to see his only son get married. But everything happens for a reason, he realized, and he knew him dying was, somehow, for the best. His dad was in a lot of pain, but now he was relieved of it. And that was a miracle in itself.
Owen walked out of his bedroom and down the stairs. He was dressed in a simple black tux with a black tie. He grinned as he walked over to his mom and asked her to tie his tie. She happily obliged, and laughed at how pathetic her 17 year old son was. Somehow the death of her husband and Owen's father two days ago had brought them closer together. There was so much less tension, and they rarely fought. It was almost back to the way things were before his dad got sick.
"You look beautiful, Mom," Owen said, pushing her hair out of her eyes and behind her ears. She was wearing a black strapless dress and matching heels. Her curly brown hair was pushed behind her ears and secured with what seemed to Owen like an entire bottle of hairspray. He walked over to her and gently planted a kiss on her right cheek.
"Thank you, Owen," she said, a faint smile spreading across her lips. "Shall we go?" she asked.
Owen took a deep breath and looked down. "Yeah, let's get this over with," he said in a voice so low it seemed like a whisper. Mrs. Milligan picked up her purse off of the table and walked out of the door, not far behind her.
The car ride to the church was stuck in an uncomfortable silence. When they got there, they were swarmed with condolences. Family members he'd never seen before gave him hugs and promised their prayers. While Owen deeply appreciated their care, it was very overwhelming. He was doing the best he could to stay strong, but the constant reminder wasn't helping the cause at all.
Owen was caught in a daze until his mom snapped her fingers in front of his face. He blinked and looked back up to the preacher.
"Owen, would you like to say a few words in memory of your father?" he asked, impatiently.
"Oh… R-r-right. Sure," he said, stammering as he walked up to the podium.
"My dad.. He was truly my hero. He wasn't famous, he wasn't an athlete. He couldn't fly, he couldn't save the world. But to me… He could. If there was something I needed, he was there. No matter what. I always knew that."
Tears began to well up in his bright blue eyes as he struggled to continue his thought.
"I don't know what I'm going to do without him. He told me how to ride a bike, how to read, how to tie my shoes… and he had so much left to teach me. And now he'll never get the chance.. But it's helpful to know that I'll see him again someday. But until then… I'll be left missing the most important person I've ever had in my life. My best friend, my role model, my dad."
Owen chewed on his bottom lip as he returned to his seat. He looked over at his sobbing mother, her head lying in her mascara stained hands. As the tears ran down his freckled cheeks, he prayed a silent prayer that he wouldn't have to feel this pain again any time soon.