As a little kid I always saw the ambulances and fire trucks passing by our street I would always see the red white and blue flashing lights flash again and again and hear the sirens that left the silent ringing in your ears minutes after the fact. When I would walk home from school I’d watch intently on where their caravan was turning and if they were turning on my street. Thankfully, back then they never did. Unfortunately I couldn't tell, on that day, the only day when it turned on our street.

It felt like yesterday, I heard running from upstairs since you could hear everything happening upstairs through the weak frame in the tile, echoing into my room. As a light sleeper it didn't wake me up but I did notice. I thought my brother and sister were fighting so I simply ignored it, my alarm hasn't gone off yet so I decided to stay in my comforting, warm, cozy, bed. Moments pass and my sister comes bursting into my room, the door crashes open and the screeech makes me spring out of bed and I see tears falling from her face. Her throat clogged up and she choked down her tears I could tell she was trying to speak. “Dad had a stroke...” No words came out of my mouth at that second I was just shocked, not moving, not speaking, not thinking.

“Where is he? Did mom call the ambulance? Is he alive?”

“The ambulances are here and he is alive but they don't know if he is going to make it.” My heart beats faster and faster, you could here the clomp clomp as I rushed up the stairs, I saw dad but looked away, all I wanted to do was comfort him but I didn't want to see him in that kind of state, it would scare me too much to see the dad that went on camping trips, took me to my practices and loved me unconditionally in so much pain that he couldn't respond to any of us.

“Where is my tennis shoes? I need to go to the hospital.” As my body is still stiff from shock I gently pick up my moms’ tennis shoes with my fingers fragile and tingling. I hear the gurney go out of our house, our home. The last fireman comes out, “Do you know where St. Lawrence is, Maam?”

“Yes.” Looking at me she says, “Carol will be here soon, I am going to the hospital, Dad will be fine, everything will be fine, I love you, everything will be alright.” At that point I felt salty tears rush into my mouth and I saw the worst images of what the future might be. “We did everything we could. We are sorry for your loss.” “Who are you, you are not my daughter, I don't have a daughter.” “My dad was an amazing person and father, he did not deserve to die.” STOP. I told myself over and over and over again, but the imagining wouldn't seize. I imagine at that point after trying repeatedly my heart flat lined, or at least I thought it did. I don't know what to do how to react. How do I be the older sister that has the responsibility in such a fragile state? How could I stay strong at a time like this... So I just cried and cried and cried in a circle of us huddling with blankets in the frigid Colorado garage non-heated air, we just - cried.

As I walk into school I put on the fake smile, my fake happy self - what is hiding beneath I didn't want to share with anyone, classes went by and the seconds on the clock went by, tick tock tick tock. Daydreaming of what the future may hold praying that a miracle will happen, but the clock never stops, it always tocks. I drowned out the noises that whole school day. It was just a blur, not engaged, feeling hopeless, locked in, I have no information and I feel everything at the same time at which I know nothing. Class to class like a normal day, not talking, no laughter. My mind was a tornado of emotions nonstop swirling in my head.

Consumed with the guessing, the illusions seemed worse because his past heart problems took a toll on him as well. I finally heard the last bell 2:15, I was free, free to move, free to feel, free to see my dad and, free to express my emotions. An hour later through forcing down food and, the car ride to the hospital with my aunt I was about to burst. All I wanted to know was that he wanted to see me, was alive to see me, and remembered me. Although it may sound self - centered I needed my dad in my life or I would crumble, into more and more tiny shards of myself.

In retrospect I think I’m not fond of hospitals they smell like bleach and old people, and I haven’t been in one since my mom had her back surgery 2 years ago... So as I walked in that day I had the highest hopes that some miracle, some crazy miracle would happen and that everything would be fine that we would be able to leave soon because the smell was really taking a toll on my air flow. As the curtain opened I was never so happy to see the heart monitor moving up and down beeping, knowing that he will be alright. He was sleeping, he was medically sound, and he remembered me the moment he woke up. When his blueish grayish eyes fluttered open, when he adjusted to the light I was happy, never so glad to see someone wake up - to see me.