Living death – life’s accounts

Based on a true story – Written by Symon T. Taylor

4 years old -Life seemed pretty vague at that age, but I can still remember the drive; my parents filled the rest. My brother was 2 years old at the time.

It was a Sunday, bright, cool, with a warm summer’s tinge. It was a Sunday, where my dad would drive my brother and me to Clayton where we would usually take a stroll. It was a Sunday when my father was exiled from the family.
My father has two sisters and two brothers and out of all of the siblings, one of my dad’s brothers (my uncle) and he found high paying jobs when they came to Australia; all the rest were given a small percentage of their earnings. My father worked in an office for a large shipping company, and my uncle worked in real-estate. The money they gave to the family was a considerable amount. But was that enough? No it wasn’t, according to them. I remember that Sunday, all those years ago. How could I forget?
We had returned into the car, after our mid-day stroll in Clayton, until I had realized we were going somewhere. There! I saw it! My auntie’s house on the corner street. I un-buckled my seat-belt, but once my father heard the click; he demanded I stayed in the car with my baby brother. I did.
Seconds turned to minutes; minutes turned to quarters until I saw my father walk outside callously. My uncle tried to hold him back, but a shove put him back in this place. I looked outside the window, and saw my father’s side of the family looking at my father in disgrace, in hatred, in greed. All but one, my uncle in real-estate.
It was a Sunday when my father, my mother, my brother and I were exiled from the family. None of them keep in contact with us, all except my uncle, the only one who had sympathy for my father, or rather his brother. Money over family, can family buy money? I could never understand why this happened at a young age, but as I came to understand how the world works… All I knew was falling...