Unit 1 Paper

The worst day of my life
By: Gina Taylor


March 17th 1993 was the worst day of my life. I was sound asleep around 4am when I was awaken by a telephone call followed by my mothers silent cry, as I got out of bed to make sure she was ok she was walking towards my room, I instantly felt like something very bad had happened, my heart was racing and my stomach was all in knots. I could tell that what ever happened my mother was afraid to tell us, both my brother and I asked her repeatedly “what happened”! “What’s going on?” As she sat on the floor in the middle of the hallway she said “im so sorry you guys but I just got off the phone with your grandmother and your father has been murdered”

At that point, I felt like I was standing outside of myself, almost dreamlike. I felt like then and still do now that the whole scene went in slow motion, I felt as if my breath had been taken from me and my heart was being squeezed. I was daddy’s little girl so at that point a part of my soul had died, even though we had somewhat of a rocky relationship he was my protector.

After taking a little time to myself, sorting through my thoughts and feelings, my mother, younger brother and I immediately drove to where my family was, even though it was one city away the drive felt like it took hours. During the drive there I thought about how I just spoke to my father a couple days prior and how he wanted me to come see him, due to our unsteady relationship I was upset with him at that time and didn’t want to be bothered. Me being a very sensitive person and him being an extremely selfish and insensitive person, our personalities often clashed and we had weeks in between the time that we spoke.

My brother was very quiet and seemed to be in shock, he was always the opposite of me. As we arrived at the hospital I was very anxious to get to my father, when we walked in we were greeted by allot of family members, aunts, uncles, cousins and grandmother. “He’s gone” my grandmother kept screaming “my baby boy is gone”. I’m still not sure why but we weren’t able to see him when we got there.

The days that followed were full of planning, preparations and gathering of family members that I hadn’t seen in years. Everything happened so fast, the last time I saw my father he was dressed in his favorite grey suit with a beautiful smile on his face, as he layed in the casket I kept waiting for him to get up, I thought if I prayed long and hard enough god would give him another chance at life, another breath, another chance to be with his family.

After that day things were very different for me, a part of me was taken from me and remains missing, I always thought with time the feeling of emptiness would gradually ease, here it is 16 years later and the same void still remains embedded within.