What it Means To Live Again

Yes, my body is still here but i feel as awake as the dead. Black humor in that. Two years ago, my father suffered a heart attack and died a couple days after. I cried, cried, cried every night. The night he died, he held my hands, trying to calm me through the tears.
'Sweetie, promise me to be strong. Promise me to hold on. For me and your mother. I get to see her again. But I will miss you.' I shook my head.
'No! No, Dad! Please, don't talk like that! You can't live me! Oh!' He rubbed my cheek and started to cry also.
'Sarah, look at me. I'm sorry I wasn't everything you could have but please know that I love you more than anything else.' I put his hand on my face, sobbing now.
'Dad, you were good. Better than good. I love you too.' I kept crying.
'Yes, I've always wanted to ....know that....' Those were his last words. His eyes closed, his hand fell instantly, his heart had stopped. I laid my head down
sobbing and sobbing. All my emotions flooded out and there was no stopping it. The nurse came and rubbed my shoulder, whispering, 'I'm so truly sorry honey. Cry as long as you want. Your neighbors will wait.'
I remembered that are good neighbors had taken the liberty to 'adopt' me since I had no other siblings, my mother was gone. That should have helped but it didn't at all. All I thought about that was no mother, no father. Why? Why did it have to happen? Why did mom take the car that day?
Why'd dad have heart problems? WHY? Why?
I guess I was so involved with them so probably that when they left, a part of me was gone and went with them. Now I live my life, two years later, in solemn a sad life. I tell everyone I died with my father. They always glare at me and move on. Sometimes, I feel like a zombie but I don't want to hurt anyone I just want them to leave alone or they're gonna get it.
Everywhere I go, I keep the locket that my mother gave to me when she was still with me. It is engraved with the words, 'My Love is True Love, For you sent from above.' I've worn since she passed away when I was ten years old.
Even my 'new' family didn't know what to do with me. I didn't let them in and wasn't planning on it. They were expecting a baby in the spring. It's a blessing for them. Great. They are huddled together, picking names and getting supplies. I go to my room and pound my fists to the walls.
They ask me, 'Sarah! What do you think would fit our baby girl?' I usually reply, 'Maybe something sweet. Not Sarah though.' I don't want to be part of their newborn. Another being that would probably grow to become a spoiled brat or get disappointed with a life like mine that everyday I prayed I didn't have but I accepted.