On Martin Luther King, Jr, birthday, I had a dentist appointment at 6:30 PM. The secretary called me earlier in the day to say that the dentist would take me at this time due to a pending snow storm on Tuesday. I took the opportunity to take this appointment on my day off and as my spouse would watch our son at this time. I arrive on time but the secretary told me that the dentist was running 15 minutes late. I said I don’t mind waiting as I can get comfortable reading the business magazines on a soft grey cushion chair. As I read each article, I kept looking at my watch every five minutes. It is 655 PM, dentist is still busy with another patient who said “Ouch” a few times as I hear the sound of the drill. I shrieked as I felt butterflies hitting my stomach muscles. I read another article and I noticed it is now 7 PM. I asked the secretary if the dentist will see me or not this evening. She said in a few minutes.
I was seven years old when I was told that my classmate and best friend (we can call him Mark) will no longer be coming to school. My teacher announced that Mark’s funeral will be held in only a few days. She sent us home early with a note containing all the details. I could not understand what was really happening but my mother tried to explain to me that Mark was dead and we would not be playing together anymore. When I was told how he died, it was as though all understanding left me. How could his own father beat him to death? Fathers are supposed to be protectors. How could they also be the attacker?