Mr. Amoah came home one day with papers stating I am his adopted son. He was very happy with me and me with him. He was a devoted Christian and we went to church every Sunday. Every morning and evenings we had devotions. We lived happily and I completed J.H.S. while I was waiting for my results, he made me started pre S.H.S classes. During my leisure time, I use to draw. He loved watching me draw. He said I would be great in the future. That as the second time someone told me I was going to be great. I was very happy because God gave me a father like Mr. Amoah.Like the saying goes; good things don’t last forever. I woke up this morning feeling a little weird. I couldn’t describe the feeling. My father Mr. Amoah had already left for work. That feeling stayed with me throughout the day. I returned from school that late afternoon and I saw people in mourning clothes mourning. I didn’t understand. Mr. Timo one of my adopted father’s relative took me aside and prepared me for the news. He was just beating about the bush. I didn’t understand a word he was saying. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I left him and went back in inside. Nobody was willing to tell me anything so I went into my room. The weird feeling I had that morning was still there. I tried sleeping to see if it was fatigue but I couldn’t. I struggled in bed over sometime before I was awoken by the noise from outside. Later that evening, my adopted father’s relative came over and broke the news to me. At first I didn’t believe my ears. Then it all clicked. I had been having that wired feeling since morning because of my adopted father. The strangest thing was that, he died the same way my mother died. He was killed in an accident and died on the spot. I cried and cried. I couldn’t even take it anymore. I even questioned God. I asked why he was being wicked to me.