Dear, Dear diary....

Diary Entry 1

July 4th 2011: July 4th 2010

Well, I can't say that this is something I have ever done before or even considered doing before but apparently here I am writing my very first diary and diary entry.

Although this probably isn't your usual diary, I don't think anyway, I have never actually even read a diary before but I don't think they usually get written backwards or at least from a past date when we're already in the future. So yeah, that's confusing.

Let's just say that although today is July 4th 2011, my diary is actually going to start from a year ago today, July 4th 2010.  The day that led me into therapy, with Dr Tarique Carter, who is making me write this diary as apparently it will make me open up a little more than I do in our sessions.  Also Independence Day and probably more importantly the day our father was shot. Oh the irony!

Wow! That was weird to write myself. I mean I have seen it written down in black and white, I've even seen someone write it word for word but I've never actually written it myself. In fact after all the lies, deception and cover ups that led to that day and this diary, it still seems weird to admit exactly what happened and to no longer have to live in a world full of lies and worry.

So anyway, back to July 4th 201o, the day that would shake our world up and turn it upside down in ways we could have never imagined.  I'd like to say that it was he worst day of our lives and in some ways I guess it was, but we had been through some pretty rough days between us and this almost felt like some sick, twisted cherry on the top of those.

I will however never forget this day, no matter how hard I try or how much therapy I'm made to have and not just because it's etched into my memory like my own name but because I have had the joy of having to talk about it over and over again this past year.  I guess that's one of the reasons why I don't really want to talk about it or any other parts of my past in therapy, I would just like to forget it, along with a million other memories I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forget, but I can't see how talking about it all helps.  Although Dr Carter seems to have other ideas on this, so we'll see.

So a question I have been asked many times and a question I am still being asked, especially by my therapist is, what do I remember?  I'm asked like I'd just forget but I unfortunately remember everything!

I remember being stood in my bedroom, next to my desk which was scattered with school work, books, art supplies, pens, a jam jar tipped on its side with the contents of old paint water still dripping out of it, part of a broken plate, the other part was on the floor along with a smashed glass and a beer can not to mention the clothes and other bedroom items which littered the floor.  I was stood next to JJ who, I wasn't sure, was about to cry more or throw up as we both stared down at our father who was laid on his back, on floor with both hands over the gun shot wound to his stomach.

I remember the weight of our fathers gun in my left hand as I held it loosely by my side and watching the blood from the wound spread out over our fathers shirt and out from under his hands as the colour in his face started to drain.

"Help me for fuck sake!" He said in a voice filled with pain and concern, something neither of us were used to hearing from our father.  "Call a fucking ambulance!" He croaked and tried to look at the wound but the pain was too much as he groaned loudly and flopped back down, screwing his eyes shut with the pain.

I remember that neither of us could move as we just took it all in, knowing we should help but frozen with panic.  As he kept his eyes shut and became more still I realised that we needed to act fast if he wasn't going to bleed out onto my bedroom floor.

"Call an ambulance!" I said to JJ and looked around for my phone which was on the floor almost hidden under my bed and I grabbed it, thrusting it into JJ's hands.