Broken

tata

It was quiet, which was strange. By 8 am the morning rush is usually just beginning like the peak hours at a local diner. The home is filled with the chatter of conversation, which overtime turns into white noise. The sound of the children running causes the house to rumble, like the vibrations just before an earthquake. Dishes slamming and nearly breaking, water running, and breakfast sizzling over a fire meant to boil a cauldron, are routine. However, this Tuesday morning the air felt as thick as the steam in a sauna room. In the distance, as the birds sang their off beat high pitch melody’s, the clouds began to roll in preventing the sunrays from piercing through the kitchen curtains. All that echoed through the hallways was the clinking of my spoon against a coffee mug, and the sound of an alarm clock. Unsure of how long I had been sitting there, the bread like aroma of my morning brew was absent and its rich vanilla crème turned sour. As my mind grew tunnel vision on the repetitious high pitch tones, I decided to uncover the reason for this continuous never ending sound. Little did I know my world was about to turn upside down.

My heart began to pound as I made my way down the hall which seemed to be never ending. The rustle beneath my slippers came to a pause as I stood before the room containing the never ending puzzling sound. Opening the door, a gush of wind carried the sound directing my attention to the right side of the room. Within a split second my world had stopped. Frozen in place, with tears as cold as stone rolling down my cheeks, I made the decision to attempt a reverse of the inevitable. I grabbed my father, who was as stiff as a board and as cold as a bag of ice, and placed him gently on the soft cushioned floor. I instantly felt a surge of energy, but with little hope as I attempted chest compressions. I could hear the sirens blaring through the streets as the paramedics made their way through the doors. There it was again, the familiar rumble beneath their feet; but this time from the fire department. As they walked in to relieve me, I quickly began to develop a blurred vision and my anxiety began to rattle my nerves like a dog in the middle of winter. The obnoxious alarm was no longer present, for it was washed out by a constant ringing in my ear and the orders being shared between the first responders. In their attempt to check his condition, the smell of disinfectant filled the air; it was strong, sour, and acidy. The rustling of plastic and gauze followed as the stretcher squeaked letting off a metallic tang from its freshly cleaned rails. Suddenly the noise came to a stop. In the distance were low whispers saying, “11:58 am” It was in that exact moment I knew my life would never be the same.

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Stepping out of the car the emptiness within my heart was as hollow as a drum. As the ten-foot dark and elegant woodwork is carried out of the hearse, my body was overpowered by a tingling and warm vibration. I had become numb to the beauties of the world. The sky was as blue as the ocean, yet colorless. The velvet pedals within my hand felt dry, and their scent was nauseating. The ground was freshly lifted, yet the scrunch of grass and mud were out of perception. As the roaring of the truck engines soon came to rest, so did the sun in behalf of the rising moon. Standing slightly drooped wearing a dress as dark as night, the time had arrived to say goodbye. Placing my shaking palms onto the smooth wood surface of the fresh pine one last time I whispered gently into the wind, “I’ll always love you, until we meet again.”

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The inconsistent jingle of my keys as I tried to unlock the front door began to stir up my nerves like sporadic jolts of electricity. I knew the house would never feel the same, but I was not sure exactly what to expect. The door creaked as it slowly opened to a hallow and dense hallway. While taking my first step a familiar light and spicy yet masculine fragrance tickled my nose. With my head tilted up and my eyes slightly shut, the air carried this familiar aroma directly to his favorite hat. It looked overwhelmingly elegant and full of charm. Reaching for the hat my arms felt weak and frail for sorrow was weighing me down, yet strong enough to grasp between my clammy finger tips. The brim felt freshly sewn without a single dent on its crown. This fleecy yet sturdy hat was a timeless piece, and perfectly tailored for a comfortable fit. As I squeezed this smooth and delicate surface a stream of tears burst out like water flowing down a stream. My heart was shattered like glass, and my soul finally hijacked by the unexpected turmoil’s of life. In a split second my knees buckled, slamming onto the firm cold tile as I realized this hat would never be worn again. It would remain as empty as my heart for the rest of its existence.

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I see him often in my dreams for the memories play like a movie in my head. His smile shimmers and his voice travels gently with angel-like undertones. His hugs feel like a warm blanket in the winter, and the words he speaks give me courage and hope. The pain still comes and goes just like the ocean waves, for some days are easier than others. My voice trembles and my lips still curl at the sound of his name. However, as I embrace the world with only our memories his words of wisdom will forever guide me. The heavens gained an irreplaceable treasure when he took his last breath. A golden heart stopped beating, hard working mind at rest.

XO,

Yvette Priscilla