I’ll never forget August 14th, 2013. Thunder clapped somewhere in the distance, the lightning that followed encouraged me to dodge the puddles scattered in my path. Rain pounded on my face and neck, blurring my vision. I could hardly focus on the bright ER lights guiding me to my destination. With great determination I reached the revolving doors. It never crossed my mind that once I crossed the thresh hold my life would be changed forever.

My mom rushed in after me and darted to the front desk. “Please try to be considerate of the rest of the waiting room.” The lady barked at us in a hushed tone. “Yes yes that’s fine, can we have Sharon’s room number?” My mom urged. Apparently unable to release the information due to Maw Maw’s current state, the woman led us to a table to fill out paper work. This is good I thought. A lot of paper work means she’s stable and will just be here until she recovers. I allowed myself to release the air I’d trapped in my lungs.

Anticipation clung to the humid air as we waited. I could still hear the rain sloshing outside, it was the only thing that drew my attention away from the signature hospital stench.

I was turning in Maw Maw’s paperwork when Kathleen, my grandma’s sister, walked through the door. She wore an expression of painful recognition. Her husband lost his battle to cancer in this hospital just a few months before.

I was thrown off by her appearance. She and my grandmother were always put together and perfect. Not this time. Her hair was tangled, her clothes were crumply and worn. She’d obviously rushed here as quickly as she could. When her worried eyes reached us we ran to embrace. I don’t think we had ever hugged before that day. She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and met my glistening eyes. “It’s okay, Maw Maw will be okay.” Kathleen cooed. My mom and I did our best to fill her in on the little information we had.

The crude secretary came back over to where we sat. “You are welcome to wait in a private room we have set aside, the doctor will be in to speak with you in a moment and then you can go back to see her.” I let out another sigh of relief. She was obviously okay. I would be going home with my grandma.

We sat in that room for what felt like years. My back ached from its stay in the waiting chairs. I knew that doctors typically took their time, but my anxiety was shot through the roof. I longed to wrap my arms around my Maw Maw and feel the warmth of her heart on my chest.

The fingers on my quivering hand clenched the clothes we brought for her to change into when she was ready to come home. I couldn’t keep still, my restless leg syndrome was in hyper drive.

It felt like the three of us were trapped in a time warp. Time was ticking away yet completely frozen at the same time.

I heard the doctor’s shuffling feet stick slightly to the floor with each step, he was gradually making his way towards our room. Crrreeeek. The door was torn open and Dr. Massey peeked his head around the corner. I’d watched enough Grey’s Anatomy to know that Massey’s obvious attempt to avoid eye contact was never a good sign.  He opened his mouth and spoke a language foreign to me. The only thing my thirteen year old mind could comprehend was that she had an aortic aneurysm. I knew that this was bad, but Maw Maw was strong and he kept speaking so I assumed she had somehow pulled through. 

Well you know what they say about assumptions.

The last thing he said will be etched in my mind forever. “We tried all we could. Her heart stopped in the plane on the way here, there was nothing we could do for her.” He cleared his throat before barely whispering “She was already gone.” I’ll always wonder how it feels to break peoples’ hearts as part of your job.

Everything after that moved in slow motion. The walls caved in and enclosed around me. I reached for comfort but only found myself. I crumpled in two, tears poured out of my eyes. His words “She’s gone” echoed in my brain, bringing me to my knees. I buried my face in my hands and gently rocked while chanting “I don’t have a grandma anymore” over and over again.

My mom may have noticed that her daughter was slowly dying inside had she not been comforting Kathleen. I knew Kathleen was broken. I heard her yelp and cry for her sister. I know that it’s selfish but I didn’t care. I wanted my mom. She never came.

I’ll never forget August 14th, 2014. I’ll never forget the day she was taken away.