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Cleaning my brother's room was always a challenge. Since he is in college, and his girlfreind from the UK comes, I clean his room so they can stay the night. "If you pay me, I'll do it." I told him, laughing. He and his girlfriend promised me gum (to fuel my gum addiction), and off they went, back to his apartment. I got home, and started cleaning.
I came across a photo-album, falling apart. It was brown, red, and gold. I opened it, and came face to face with a family picture. Me, my sister, my older brother, and my dad. I kept flipping through, more and more pictures. I was appreciating a picture of my father from high school, in his football uniform. I turned the page, and there was the news paper clipping. TWO newspaper clippings. One with my father's picture, and another from the front page of our local paper. "A 44-year-old was found dead after a rollover accident" screamed the paper. It sent me back to the morning I found out.
I woke up to my mother's crying face, the tears splashing all over my face. Asking what's wrong, she explained. My father died in his truck after rolling over in it. I denied it. I denied everything, thinking this was some cruel joke. I shortly found out it wasn't. The funeral happened, and it's been three years since.
I came back to reality, me standing in front of my brother's dresser. I sighed, then held back my tears. Grabbing a glue stick, I started gluing the photo album together, to make it whole.
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