Randy's Thoughts Chapter 2

Journal Entry for Tuesday September 16, 1997

I don't have too terribly much to write about today. Nothing happened over the weekend really.

My mom did tell me I have to start school next Monday (which I dread the thought of). I suppose I'll just make the best of being alone the next few days (Brad and Mark have already insisted on going back).

I enjoy being by myself through the day, and sometimes at night. I know I used to be afraid of the dark, but over the past two weeks, the dark has seemed unusually welcoming. But anyways, I like to be alone so I can enjoy the silence. That way, I can control how loud the TV or stereo is, and I can determine how much noise there is coming from human beings. Being alone also gives me some time to reflect on life in general. But, enough of that sadistic talk.

I haven't eaten much since I found out the news about my dad. I haven't really done anything other than sit on bed and try my best to console my mom. Wilson has offered to talk to me. Just what I need…another damn psychiatrist. No, Wilson would be different. Maybe I should talk to him. Maybe I could dig up some dirt on the Taylor family pre-Randy.

I hate to admit it, but I think this goddamn journal might actually be helping a little bit. I feel the best I have now since September 2 at around 2 a.m. (that's when I found out about my dad). And may I request that my damn psychiatrist disregard this paragraph.

Now, due to the steady badgering of my mom and my damn psychiatrist, I will share the last memory I have of my father.

FLASHBACK

September 2, 10:30 pm

I'm sitting on the couch, listening to the very end of a Live Dave Matthews Band album, Mark has gone to his bedroom, and Brad is at some party. Mom is studying for a psych test, and dad is screwing around with the Healey (doing God knows what). Just as my CD ends, he comes into the house and announces he's going to the grocery store to get some milk for breakfast tomorrow morning. I say sure. Mom tells him bye, and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

END FLASHBACK

This is the last memory I have of my father. I just feel guilty as hell that I didn't have a more meaningful last moment with him.

The next time I saw my dad was at the funeral home, when we were deciding what to have my dad wear.

-Randy

A/N I'll have a couple more chapters up tomorrow. As always, please R&R.