Dad's Final Gift
Youth Magazine
September 1983
Volume: Vol. III No. 8
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Dad's Final Gift
Vicki Thomas  

I was exhausted. I slowly moved through the house in a zombielike state. Even opening the door to my bedroom was a major effort, but I finally slumped myself down on my cluttered bed. Just as I was about to fall asleep, my heavy eyes fixed upon an object on the floor. The hard, black cover shone like ebony. Inscribed across the front were the words Holy Bible. I picked it up, forgetting my former exhaustion, and decided to read a couple passages before this drowsiness overtook me again. As I thumbed through the pages, an object slipped out of the thin pages of the book. I reached down to pick it up and ran my fingers across the much loved bookmark. The pungent aroma of leather made my nose tingle. I traced out the three letters my sister had carefully pounded in to the leather. D-A-D. The memories flooded back to me. The fun, the love, the warm sunny days and then the horror, the tears and the pain. My mind wandered back...

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Youth MagazineSeptember 1983Vol. III No. 8