I feel sick.
Okay, so my dad picked me up from church and we went to Drug Warehouse and after we went there we went to Mazzio’s. Well my dad gets up to the window to pay and he can’t find his wallet. He looks around- nada. By this point we’re scared out of our wits.
See, his wallet has everything in it. Money, social security card, driver’s licence, etc.
We drive back to Drug Warehouse and ask if anyone turned it in. Still nothing. We go back to the truck and look around outside, inside, everywhere.
By this point I was about to cry. My father has had too many bad things happen to him for me to be able to stand it. He sounded so pitiful- “This is terrible… This is just terrible…” I hate seeing him like that. I love him more than anyone on this earth and seeing him so hurt just made me feel so horrible.
He eventually found it in his pants, but that’s beside the point.
Upon finding it, he declared (and please excuse the language), “Holy. Fucking. Shit.” I rambled on about how sorry I was. He said “I’m sorry babe… Just your nana, it’s eating me.” (She’s sick and I think she’s going a little senile.) Then, “If I’d lost that, oh my God..”
It just makes me cry… The fact he has his wallet now does not dismiss the pain we’re both feeling. I can’t fathom what would have happened had he actually lost it. We’d be so.. I don’t even know.
Why does it all have to happen to him?I hate seeing him that vulnerable.


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