When faced with death, my father fell right into the calloused hands of God, and while being lifted to heaven, he was told it wasn't his time yet.

I was a ten. Rain was pouring against rustic metal shingles on the outside of my window. The soft melodic sound of a cat purring against my stomach was enough to drift me off to sleep.

“Wake up,” my mother hissed, her nails digging into tender brown skin.

I stirred from my sleep, sitting up to look at her. My cat jumped from my lap and strolled away. I wiped my eyes with my knuckles.

“What time is it?” I asked, looking around my room for the sun.
My mother sighed, wiping her face. “It’s 1:30AM.”
I nodded, sitting up. “What’s wrong mummy?”
My mother ran her fingers through my hair, her hands quivered. “I’m worried about your Dad.”

My mother was always worrying about something. Playing in the backyard required her eyes at all times. Anywhere out of sight caused a stir of commotion. Going on the front street was strictly prohibited. There was a small possibility I could be hit. I guess she thought I wasn’t smart enough to stay out of the street. She shook with anxiety so often that she got prescribed medication, but stopped taking it two days in.

“What about him?” I asked.

My mother was silent for a moment. A few tears ran down her face. She looked to her hands a few times before she sighed. “He left at nine for Primanti Brother’s, on the South Side. He’s been gone for—it’s been almost three hours.”

She stood, motioning for me to follow her. As we passed my brothers room, towards the stairs, my mother collapsed in the doorway in a fit of sobs. I sat down next to her, rubbing her back with my hand. I looked down the hallway, glancing at my door. Sharpie drawn monsters stained into the wood. It was dark, so much that I cuddled towards my mother out of the fear.

My mother hovered over me, her face illuminated in moonlight, peeling from the curtains of my brother’s window. His silhouette could be made out in the dark. Fast asleep amidst my mother’s cries.

“He’s been acting weird for weeks,” my mother weeped. “What if he’s out with someone else? I’m so prone to catching cheaters. I can feel it, he’s must be with someone else.”

“Maybe he’s on his way home,” I sighed.

She shook her head. “No Aaliyah, he would’ve been home by now. It doesn’t take that long to go to the Southside.”

I thought of my Dad, and his shaggy brown hair falling against twenty-nine years old skin. Sunburned from the hot summer sun though it was beginning to cool in August. My mother was just twenty-seven. Finally finding a man to settle down with.

“Maybe he ate his sandwich inside...I’m sure he’s okay,” I said, letting my arm fall. “It’s 2am and he’s still not home!”

I hugged my knees. My fingers clawed into my thighs. It was then a swarm of anguishspread inside my chest. My legs screamed pain, faint almost. I clenched my stomach, tears welt- 
ed in my eyes. They fell, falling to the hardwood floor beneath me. It was then, I knew my dad was in trouble, some type of telepathic thing in my mind just flashed me his face, another wave of anguish and sorrow smacked against my organs. I looked to my mother, who was frowning.

“He’s hurt bad,” was all it took for God to know my family needed my Dad.

As the clock struck 2:01AM, my mothers phone flashed an unfamiliar caller ID, and when she picked it up, her face fell and a single sob escaped her lips.

~

My dad had gotten into a motorcycle accident when a Mac truck cut him off. It sent him flying off of the bike. His body running up against asphalt for almost fifty feet before he stopped. The helmet on his head saved his life. Though, it had cracked during his fall. Leaving a chunk of his skull missing. He was pronounced dead on the scene but two minutes worth of defibrillators restarted his heart.

The first time I saw him, he told us the story of how he seemed both my grandmother’s and God. He said they told him he wasn’t ready to go and he came back. My dad was a fighter nonetheless. He worked for months to heal and learn to walk against due to his bad knee. Current day, he deals with the pain that comes with having metal bolts in your knees and a tectonic plate in your face. The weird thing about it though is that my grandma’s were dead, and my dad didn't believe in God.