"Say Goodbye"

This is a paper I wrote in comp class, junior year of high school, and I vowed I'd never, ever touch it again. Now, nearly 10 years after writing it, as I re-read it, I feel now is as good a time as any to share it with you. Grab a tissue and please, read on.

     Waiting-that's what I remember most about that one awful night that changed my life forever. Waiting for the dreaded phone call that held my destiny. Late one cold, brisk December night, my sister Dawn and I awaited my father's call  in my chilly basement after what felt like days of madness between my family and I.

     There it was, the phone had finally began to ring after hours of anticipation. "Hello?" cracked out my terrified sister, "She might not make it through the night? But...but...I want to see her...," was all she could muster before bursting into deep, heavy sobs of pain. Faint mutters could be heard coming from the phone as she gripped it with her life, and the life of my mother. I sat and stared wide-eyed at my crying sister, unable to speak, move, or breathe. It was definite, the cancer had finally taken over my mother's body, there was nothing we could do. The woman who I had admired for her strengh had finally been defeated. I kept asking myself how this could be, I was only 13. This was never supposed to happen-it was just yesterday that I was having a talk with her about my latest crush, giggling like a schoolgirl over popcorn and a movie, and now that had all been ripped away from me like I never had it to begin with. Sitting there next to my sister, I didn't know what to do. I reached over and put my arms around her, but I just couldn't seem to get the awful thoughts of that night out of my head.

     "Mom? Mom! Breathe, Mom! Don! Get in here now!" screamed Mark, my eldest brother, across the hallway from my father, "Dawn-call 911" Those were the pitiful cries that awoke me as my brother shook my breathless mother.

     "What? What's happening?" shouted my tired and abruptly awakened father.

     "Get in here, NOW Call 911! Call 911!" was all I heard from my place on the couch, where I didn't even belong. My eyes widened as I watched my sister stumble across the hallway to the bedroom and fumble with the phone, desperately trying to manipulate her fingers to dial the number that was obviously needed.

     "Nevermind, Dawn. Cancel the ambulance and call Kim," ordered my dad, "I think we've got it under control."

     "Are you sure?" she asked, shakily.

     "Yeah, go ahead," stammered my dad.

     Moments later, which felt like the droned on for hours, our friendly neighbor and nurse had arrived to the aid of my mother. No sooner did Kim arrive, the problems started again.

     "Dawn-call 911! Joli-stay where you are-do not come down the hallway! Stay there!" commanded Kim.

     My mouth went dry and I could smell the fear drifting from the bedroom and down the hallway. I could hear faint mutters and groans seeping from the bedroom, but the rest of the house was as quiet as death. Suddenly, my sister bolted down the hallway, tears streaming down her face. She had told me it was time to go down to the basement, that the ambulance would be arriving any minute and I wasn't allowed to see my mother beign wheeled out on a medical stretcher. She tugged my arm frantically, and I lifelessly got up and walked with her to the basement door. My sister opened the door and escorted me down into the crisp, cool air of the lower level of my house. Minutes later, shouts were heard travelling from the living room through the hallway and into the bedroom, where my mom was in need of all the help she could get. Shouts of the paramedics were heard, followed by the clings and clangs of the stretcher as it was propelled down the hallway and out the front dor. Finally, my sister was called upstairs by my father, it was decided that my father and brother would ride along with the ambulance to reassure my mother, and my sister and I would stay home. My father would call us and let us know of her current condition as soon as it was established.

     There was nothing else we could do but wait. Wait for that final phone call that would tell us if our mother made it or not. It was then, in the hours of silence when I had realized that my biggest fear just might come true. I had feared so much, not of my mother's death, but that she would die without knowing how much I loved her. I was so scared that I might loose her and never get to say good-bye. I might never get another chance to hug her, kiss her, see her smile. To me, she was the most beautiful person I had ever came to know, and I was worried that she may never know exactly how I felt. I knew that somehow, someway, I had to show my sister that I loved her, too. I reached over and hugged her, adn we both sat and cried. We watched the clock on the stereo in neon green numbers as the minutes slowly passed.

     Thinking back on this at the time, and even today, I was absolutely terrified. At times, I still am. In a way, I am glad it happened to me, it taught me that one person's life can change in a heartbeat, that I take so many things for granted. I never did get the chance to se my mother smile again, but in my heart, she's always smiling. Even today, I try my  best to enjoy life more and more each moment, because I am breathing, I am alive. Every chance I get, I tell those I care about just how much they mean to me, and I have my mother to thank for that. Another lesson well learned.

RIP:
Bernadette Marie Konow
December 4, 1997