This an event which I never talk about an event which haunt's me to this very day.

I was five my dad died and had a very great toll on me and the family.

This was in 2005 my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and they said they were going to do surgery on him but it went all wrong I visited him in the hospital the day before his surgery he spoke to me with Sweet words and told me I should always protect my mum I listened to him as young as I was not knowing that,that will be the last time i ever see him again. Next three days I got the news that he had died at first I was too young to understand the meaning of death but I knew that he was never going to come back again I watched how my mum cried for days continuously for weeks for months everyone tried all the could to pacify her.

I always waited to expect my dad to walk in and tell us he is alright and nothing is wrong,I missed the sweet names he called me and food items and gift he always brought back for me but most of all I miss his company,he always had interesting stories to tell about his childhood and travel experiences.

Some months later we went to the village for his burial rites,I had one last look at my hero,father and protector and knew that those cold arms were never going to stroke my face again and those soft lips were never going to call my name again,I couldn't even cry I was just stoned faced.

The prayers were said,his body was blessed,the casket was sealed and the ground was dug,the lowered him into the his last resting place and at that moment I wondered why wasn't it me.

It should have been me!