I remember playing in my room when I was 8, and my dad walks in. He sits beside me and starts whispering to me. A few minutes later, he gets up and says, “Never leave mom alone, okay?” He kisses my head and leaves.
My mom rushes, minutes later, panic all over her face. She grabs me, trying to stay calm, but I could tell something was wrong. Through tears, she tells me that my dad had passed away that morning. It was the most tragic day of my life, but also the one that stays a mystery. My dad had visited me in the afternoon—so how could he have died that morning?
