I remember a time, when I didn't worry. Those times are long gone. Where will I work, will I go to school, will my car die? Maybe I worry too much...maybe not enough. I wish I could just go back, back to when I was little. I want to be siting and watching rugrats or Doug. Reminiscing is painful. I love remembering. I hate that I can't go back. I miss his hugs. I'm glad that we were as close as we were. It makes it harder now. Honestly, we were friends on top of our father son relationship. I am upset that I don't really have any pictures of just us. I remember a time that we just randomly went out on the boat. We had long conversations. I told him that I was gonna miss him when I went to college. Also that I treasured the random times like those. For the in our lives there was an awkward pause. If you have ever met my dad, you would know, that there were no awkward pauses. I don't know what that meant. Maybe he was sad thinking about me not being around, maybe it was a parent thing, "like I'm so proud" or something, but whatever it was, it was a first. It was really sad for me when they tore down Hollywood park. That was where Dad Nick and I spent a lot of quality time together. Whether we were playing video games, mini golf, or racing gokarts, we had a blast. There was a day the we spent the entire time beating house of the dead 2. My Dad was pretty rad. I miss him a lot. I think I'm actually gonna tell the tale. I forget dates, and frankly I don't want to remember them. I was working at taco bell at the time. I came home to a frightened looking grandma. Mom was on the other line eerily calm. She told me that they were in an accident, and that Dad wasn't able to talk. She said everything was gonna be ok. After I got off the phone with her, I immediately called my brother, and we went to the e.r. It was the most scared I have ever been. We got there, mom and aunt Chris were there. Mom was in a sling, she had a lot of glass in her arm. We went and saw dad, he looked bad, he was attached to machines, and covered in blood. His jaw was broken in two places, his cheekbone was completely crushed, like dust, broken ribs, and he was on life support. Mom said he never stopped breathing on his own, they put him in a drug induced coma. He was in a coma for two weeks I think. After they cleaned him up we went and saw him. It was the 2nd time I've ever seen him without a beard. He was in the hospital for a total of three months. I was there for all but like four of those days. He would squeeze my hand, and when he woke up, he looked at me. He eventually started breathing on his own. He still needed oxygen, but he was breathing on his own. Then, because of the ventilator, he caught pneumonia, which eventually caused his death. I believe that he had a stroke, then they crashed into a tree. He was mobile on his left side. He would squeeze my hand on that side, not the right, and his right eye was lazy. But they moved him to a nursing home, and in the back of my mind I knew he was gone. After two weeks I think, he died. He was all alone. I'm pretty sure he wanted it that way. I found out recently that his mom visited the night before, and she told him, "you can go now, you've worked really hard, but you can go now." He was always a momma's boy. I don't want to get into the funeral and all of that. Now that I've made myself completely depressed, I'm gonna stop.