April 28, 2006 — age seventeen
(part of a look at the past)

Disclaimer: The following is a short story I wrote for English class. Not all of the events are real. In reality, I didn’t go to school that day except to get a few things from my locker. It explains, in better detail, how I felt whenever I found out my granny had cancer. I found out she had lung cancer on May 24, 2004, which was also my pawpaw’s birthday. I wrote it because it was a major turning point for me, and I believe my life didn’t end in that moment, even though at the time, that is what I thought. Now though, I believe that it was just the beginning.

My eyes fluttered open; I could smell breakfast in the other room. I was rarely late for anything, especially school, so why was this morning different? As soon as I looked at the clock, I shot out of bed, and I quickly gathered my clothes. The bathroom floor was cool–cooler than it should have been in May. I turned on the shower and stepped in, letting the warm water fall around me. This was always my favorite time of morning.

Everything was quiet around me, except for the sound of water hitting the porcelain beneath my feet. Even though silence surrounded me, my thoughts were always racing, especially this morning. I couldn’t understand why I was feeling so uneasy. The storm of thoughts clouding my head caused me to shower quicker than usual.

Stepping out of the shower, I wiped the condensation from the mirror to the right of me. I brushed my teeth hastily, as I continued readying myself for school. After making sure everything was perfectly in place–at least my definition of perfect–I walked to the kitchen. My mother was standing at the sink, washing the dishes from breakfast that morning, which I had missed due to hitting the snooze button one too many times.

“Good morning, Megan,” she said. The tone of her voice seemed different, almost chilling. It wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as usual. I replied with a “good morning” as I took a glass from the cupboard. I heard my mother sigh while I drank the orange juice that I had poured into my glass. Not wanting to miss the bus, I shrugged it off and yelled for my brother and sister. We all scrambled to the vehicle so that Mom could drive us to the bus stop. The short drive there, my mother was quiet, even when my siblings were arguing. The awkward silence coming from my mother bothered me, and I was glad when the bus arrived.

The school bus was loud; small children were yelling and jumping from seat to seat. I pondered over my mother’s inability to speak. It struck me as odd and made me slightly uncomfortable. Despite my best efforts, I felt that uneasiness all day at school. Everything seemed distant, even when it was directly in front of my face. The voices of my teachers were blocked by my thoughts, and I felt nauseous as I tried to eat my lunch. My thoughts continued to return to the events that had taken place earlier that morning. The day seemed to drag on slower than a normal Thursday, and I was relieved when I got on the bus at the end of the day to go home.

I always enjoyed walking home, which my parents let us do occasionally in the afternoons, and today wasn’t any different. However, it bothered me greatly when I stepped off the bus and neither of my parents were there to pick us up. I felt so tired, and I didn’t want to walk home.

The walk home seemed to take longer than it normally did. When I arrived, my house seemed somber. My siblings ran to their bedrooms, and I walked behind them, glancing towards the living room, where my parents were sitting, silently. Their faces were stolid. The feeling of uneasiness that I’d had all day strengthened.

As I sat in my bedroom, my head continued to buzz with thoughts. I knew something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t figure it out.

The phone rang, startling me. My heart seemed to stop. I couldn’t understand why I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe; the silence was almost deafening, in a strange way. The phone rang four times before anyone picked it up; I could barely hear the sounds of my parents’ voices in the room next to me. When my father placed the phone down, I heard him say, “What will we tell the kids?” as my mother’s muffled cries filled the silence around me.

Suddenly, I became frustrated; I wanted to know why my parent’s were being so secretive. I wanted to know why I felt uneasy. I wanted to know why it seemed as if time had suddenly stopped. I could hear my father make mention of a doctor, and finally, I knew. I knew why I felt like my world was about to end.

Without thinking, I rushed into the living room saying, “Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?!”

Dad started crying; I had rarely seen my father cry, so this struck me by surprise, and it was then that I finally noticed the tears streaming down my face. Had I been crying all along? I couldn’t tell you. I looked at my mother, and she tried to speak, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.

“It’s your granny…” Dad said, softly. My granny–she was Dad’s mother; she and I had been so close. She was my best friend, but she had smoked all of her life, and it was finally taking a toll on her body. Dad never had to say it. I knew it would happen; I had that feeling.

“She has cancer, doesn’t she?” When I said the words, it didn’t sound like me at all. My father just nodded and pulled me into a hug. He sobbed, while I stood, dazed. Mom cried behind him, her head in her hands.

Standing there, my thoughts floated; my heart was breaking. I knew, at that moment, that my life would never be the same.