Death
...I needed to come with her to the front office. I looked at her somewhat disappointed face and heard the loud,long “OOOOOH” of my fellow students and thought to myself, “Drat! I’m going to be dead kid walking.” As Mrs. Harrison and I went down to the office, there was silence down the hall covered in paintings by various kindergarteners except for the sound of my heavy black boots and Mrs. Harrison’s red heels. When we came to the office, she led me to a chair which I quickly sat in and Mrs. Harrison assured me that I was not in any form of trouble and that my mother was coming to pick me up early. In my head, I wondered why my mother was coming early. Did something happen to Dad at work? Did I have a special appointment they forgot to tell me about? Mom finally came, her eyes unexplainably red. “Just get in the car,” she said in a somber tone as I neglected to reply. Around five minutes later, we arrived home. I saw Dad in his tie and white Oxford shirt, sitting at the dining table, with his head cradled in his hands, home early from work and nothing like his usually composed, levelheaded self. “What’s with Dad?” I asked Mom, and she sat down on the table, and sat me on her lap, something she hadn’t done since I was five years old. “Your Aunt Lisa called this morning,” my father said gloomily. “G.G.,” he paused, trying not to cry. “passed away last night.” The minute he finished his se...