20.05.2015 / 18:23
He unlocked the door, kicked his shoes off; there was something bothering him... Highschool's a tought place, some say. Drooping around the house, he throws his stuff around and looks at his father laying there in the living room, like every other day. Bald, weak, broken even, yet with a solemn look in his eyes he tried to tell his son something very important, but hadn't the power to do even that. The son in the kitchen, preparing the same, bland food like any other day, hears his fathers coughing; it's blood again. More than usual this time, the son is worried, he feels a chill in his bones, runs to his ill father and holds his head, chunks of organs and the putrid cancer covered in blood spews out of his father's mouth and nose, and then silence. ˝Znas da cu te uvijek voljeti, sine...˝ the father mutters with a vague smile and closes his eyes. It's been 3 years since then, 3 long years, of loss and pain, struggle and new hopes. But now the son struggles with yet another obstacle, his mother has been diagnosed, though the results are unclear, let us hope he does not have to lose her as well, not now, when he needs her still.