The 23rd

The 23rd was the day of her accident. I can remember what I was wearing, this navy blue sweater I had just gotten from Gordmans. That it was the day after Thanksgiving and I always worked because it was a day of just slacking off so why waste vacation. I didn't shower before going to work because it was a sluff off day and we had plans to meet mom and dad for supper in Fergus that night so I'd get ready after work. Turner had the day off. We lived in the apartment on Amber Valley Pkwy. We had a potluck at work and I used this new Tupperware we had gotten for our wedding. I made the Tastefully Simple Fiesta dip. I was standing at DK's desk and she had asked me for KM's phone number. K wasn't at work because her first grandbaby was born that day. For some reason I grabbed my lime green cell phone to get her number. But I know her number by memory and could have found it on my computer. But I grabbed my phone just as my dad happen to be calling. He never called me. I remember how clear and calm he sounded even when the words "This doesn't look good and you need to come home right now" came out. I remember running back to my desk, grabbing my stuff, and running out as my boss was walking in and I hurriedly told her what happened and that I'd call her later. I remember calling my husband on my way on that short drive. Hugging him and crying when I got home, throwing random stuff in a bag and leaving on the four hour drive to the hospital. I remember telling two close friends so they could tell others. I remember it being the longest drive ever and picking up my dad. My brother lived an hour from the hospital at the time so he went right there. I remember walking to her room at and my dad being upset because two of my uncles had beat us here and were already in her room with my brother. I remember my brother had a cream and maroon winter jacket. My dad didn't get to be the first one in there. My uncles were there too. I remember family started to come that first day and by that evening, my brother and husband went back to my brother's apartment an hour away and I stayed with dad overnight in the most uncomfortable waiting room there was and didn't sleep all night. There were constant beeps. The arms of the love seat and chair were wood. They didn't give us anything to encourage us to stay. Probably because it was rare if someone survived that floor. It wasn't a floor of hope. There was no point in staying. At one point the lights were flipped on and people who were there for another patient were going to come in but they went to another room after noticing we were there. I don't know what we expected in the morning. There was no hope around us. No promise in a doctors voice. Survival wasn't in the cards.