As I opened the car door, the ring of my dads phone split the silence. Not paying much attention to the words being exchanged, I look at his face after he ends the call.  Looking at me with empty eyes he whispers,
“We have to go to the hospital.”

Staring out the muggy window, I had a million thoughts running through my head. All of my problems seemed to fade away, and I kept telling myself that everything would be fine. The drive to the hospital felt like I was traveling to the opposite side of the world, Neverending. I was dying to know who was hurt.

Arriving to the hospital, I lay eyes on almost my entire family, everyone looked like they had just seen a ghost. Scanning the room for my favorite person, my stomach drops when I don’t see him. As unfortunate as the situation was, we were lucky enough to have a family friend named Dan that was a paramedic. Earlier in the night, Dan had picked up an unconscious man on the side of the road, no longer any skin on his face and visibly broken bones, everywhere.

I’ll never forget that night, no matter how much I wish I could. The way the lights landed on my pale skin, the look in my aunts eyes while she held her stomach, wishing the little boy growing inside of her would’ve gotten the chance to meet his grandpa like the rest of us; how we sung happy birthday to my uncle, offering him a cafeteria cupcake. Wouldn’t it suck to lose your dad on your birthday?

2:30 AM.
The noiseless waiting room putting weight onto my entire families shoulders, I’m sitting on my Aunt Heidi’s lap when Mark, my Grandpa’s best friend of 35 years, lets out a loud wail. No one said it, and no one had to. Almost immediately, a burst of coldness rushed through me, making my skin feel like an icebox. Everyone begins crying and I have no idea what to do. I have no idea how to act, or what to say.
I was completely numb.

I could no longer stay up late and talk about random things with him. I couldn’t walk into his house in the morning and see him passed out with chocolate on his face. The seashells he had gifted me for my birthday, meant so much more to me. When I listen hear “Money” by Pink Floyd, you’ll see a smile etched onto my lips, as a thought of him briefly crossed my mind.

I’ll always miss the long rides we’d take on the twisting mountain roads in his baby blue 69’ Stingray Corvette. But what I miss most, is the way he’d tell me everything would be okay. The way that his arms would be wide open, awaiting one of my hugs. And the way that he made all of the things wrong in my life, seem a little better.

Sometimes, it still feels like he’s here. Sitting, waiting by the phone for me to call and tell him all about my day. But then I remember the night spent in the hospital. How my entire family was so close, yet so far away. The weight of the world on my shoulders, making it hard to breathe.