This I Believe
Death. Is it always fair? In my opinion, I don’t think that death is fair. The reasoning is that I have experienced first hand with someone close to me that it isn’t always fair. I was born the daughter of James Roe and Darci Diffin. I was born out of wedlock which doesn’t bother me. They were in love and that was all that mattered to our family. The only problem in our lives was that my father had a drinking problem. He was always there for us, but that one thing was ruining our lives. I had experienced a lot of things when he was under the influence.
We had gone through problems just like every family, some worse than others. One day he got into an accident. He and his friends where jumping off a roof into a pool. He was soaking wet and he slipped, fell, and hit his head on the cement. They had been drinking, which they did a lot after finishing work, and sometimes even during work. He couldn’t remember who we were or even who he was. He had amnesia. My grandmother had tried to keep my mother and I away from him, because she thought that my mom really didn’t love him, and that she was just with him because he made a good amount of money. Finally, we were allowed to see him and he got his memory back when he saw me. I was the one thing he remembered.
It had given me nightmares for two months or more. That’s when my mom said that she had enough. She took me away from him and said that the only way that he could get his family back was if he had got help. He cared so much about us that he did go and get help not just for us, but for himself as well. While he was in rehab, he wrote me letters about how he was getting better and how he missed me, how that when he got out that he was going to be a better man and a better father.
He had done so well in there that they let him out early, two days before my mother’s birthday. We saw him that day, not knowing that it was going to be the last time. Two days later, on September 26, 1992, he was hit by a drunk driver. It was my mothers twenty-first birthday and she thought that he didn’t show up because he was probably at a bar getting drunk. So she went to the store and bought alcohol. That night she was getting drunk while my father was dying. Cops showed up at her door later on that night to tell her that James Alan Roe was struck by a drunk driver and was killed.
Isn’t it ironic? There’s a song that talks about a man that won the lottery and the next day he died. That song makes me think about my father because the thing he got better from killed him. Now my mother is an alcoholic. It does bother me sometimes, but then I think. How do I know that if she did get help and got better, that she wouldn’t be taken away from me too.
That is why I think that death is not fair. Because I have lost someone in my life that meant a lot to me. Someone that brought me into this world and was trying to make his life better, our life better. Someone that was taking away by something he was trying to get away from.
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