Worst day of my life

Yesterday

By Madeline Nickles

Yesterday was the worst day of my life.

I woke up the morning of this horrid day, my eyes red and swollen from the night before, my silk pillowcase still damp from the unyielding tears that just wouldn’t seem to stop flowing.

Looking around my sister’s room, I grimace as the blinding morning sun pokes through her curtains like an outstretched hand. I see my sister, Abby, still fast asleep on her bed, blissfully unaware of the new day mercilessly attempting to rip her from her tranquil state. Must be nice.

Mustering the little strength I have, I pick my aching body up from her poor excuse for a futon. It’s more like a bed of sheet rock if you ask me.

I walk sluggishly into the bathroom treading over the dirty clothes that carpet the floor. Staring into the mirror blankly as I brush away my morning breath, I can’t help but to silently dread another day of faking a smile as people file in and out of my house like cattle to bid their last farewells to my dad.

Moving now, down the staircase and into my living room, I give a quick good morning to my mom and uncle. It is my Uncle Brian’s day to help out. Everyone has shifts now that dad’s in hospice.  I appreciated the caring gestures and sympathetic smiles at first. Now I just want everyone out of my house.

I’m greeted by the alluring aroma of fresh brewed coffee coming from the kitchen. The familiar scent embraces my body like an old friend as I pour myself a mug full.

I creep back up the staircase and back to the comfort of Abby’s room before anyone can protest. Opening my laptop, I prepare to spend the day by my lonesome avoiding the pain in my mother’s eyes and the pity from, well, everyone else.

Hours go by and, 20 How to Cake It YouTube tutorials later, I hear the cry of my mother and my sister, Tessa, wander up the stairs and into the room disrupting my peaceful solitude. This occurs so often that I am unfazed. Why wouldn’t they be crying? Life sucks right now.

I go back to my baking show and try to drown out the painful noise, but something about it seems off. My brain and my body start a silent war in my already jumbled mind. Should I go comfort them or should I stay in bed? These silk sheets and heavy fleece blanket have captured my body in their warmth, and I have fallen victim to the best kind of Stockholm syndrome. But my brain will not stop begging me to be a good person and check on my family.

Traveling once again down the dreaded staircase, I turn into the living room to see my mom and sister embracing each other as they let out bone-rattling sobs. Something isn’t right.

I take a fleeting glance over at my dad laying idle on the couch where he has been for the past two weeks, but my eyes are drawn across the room to Uncle Brian. My heart drops into my stomach when I see rolling tears streaking his face. My uncle never cries.

My mind starts spinning like a raging tropical storm, and I barely hear my mom when she tells me that dad stopped breathing. Tears are streaming down my face and all I can think is Abby doesn’t know. Someone needs to tell Abby.

I turn my body back towards the staircase, propelling myself up them one step at a time, attempting to see through my foggy, tear-filled eyes. I tear into Abby’s room and try to speak through my wailing cries. She couldn’t possibly have known what I was trying to say, but she knew what I meant.

We both make our way back downstairs to join the rest of our family, knowing that this moment would alter our lives forever.

I lost my father to cancer four-and-a-half years ago, but it will always hurt like it was yesterday.

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Are you as blown away by this heart-breaking memory as I was? I am startled by her ability to unpack her emotions and express them so powerfully and exquisitely. What was your reaction to Madeline’s story? Share your thoughts in the comments below.