Assane Diouf: A Short Story

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Assane Diouf, a father, a friend, a brother, an uncle, a son, and a hero passed away from cancer eleven years ago, I was two. I don’t remember much about him, or anything really. I only know him through the memories and laughter, he left behind with my brother, mother, and his many friends. From what I know about him, he was the light at the end of the tunnel for anyone who knew him. Anytime you needed something, he was your man. He never once asked for a mere thank you. He worked hard, from truck driver to marines he could do it all and with my mom by his side, they were a power duo.
As I slowly grew, I really didn’t think much about not having a dad since the only life I knew was with my mom. I would usually keep quiet on Father's Day where if I tried to talk about my dad, the conversation would always end with, “Awe, I’m sorry” or “Well you were little and didn’t know him, so it’s fine.” (Side note, if someone is coming out to you and telling you their problems, don’t degrade and minimize their issue. Saying “It’s fine” is equal to say “You’re overreacting” in the mind of someone who's hurting.) For the most part I didn’t interact with possible father figures.
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My mom tells me it was because good people get to go to heaven early, but then why did he have to suffer the way he did. The first step for me was me to stop having random breakdowns. When I say random breakdowns, I mean someone would say or do something to cause me to think a little too much and cry. If someone were to talk about their dad or ask me about mine, I would weep. At times I could be sitting and thinking then my thoughts took a turn for the worst and next thing I knew I was sobbing. That was also the hardest part. The definition of courage is “Doing what you know is the right thing to do even when it is hard to do” and it describes how
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