Our car rolled onto the gravel driveway greeted by familiar faces and dogs. Our grandparents white house loomed in the distance and the golf cart rumbled towards. The flowers were starting to close their eyes for the season ahead, and the vegetables were beginning to awaken. We parked our car, and strategized how to get out without being attacked. My brothers and I headed out to the deck, hastily, to visit with grandparents we hadn’t seen in quite awhile, while the others headed outside to play. I watched my two youngest brothers, Riley and Brady, run down towards the pool while being pursued by the rambunctious Saint Bernard. My sisters disappeared deep into the woods, and all I could hear was the sounds of laughs and twigs breaking under running feet.
My step dad, Eric, wasn’t feeling well, so he stayed back, hanging around inside. His skin had turned pale, and his arms gravitated toward holding his chest like there was a hidden magnetic field pulling them.There was an aching pang in my stomach, as if I knew something was off. He was lingering in the background too much for someone who always participated in the foreground.
Before we had arrived, I had pulled my mother aside and told her that something was wrong with Eric, but she told me everything was fine. It was then I knew everything was not okay.
“Mom, there’s something wrong.” I had argued.
“He’s fine, Pey. Go get ready to leave for Nana’s.” She had shuffled around my accusations. Every time something was wrong she would push it away, hiding it, so no one would have to carry the burden. One time I remember her telling me that every thing with my great-grandmother was okay, but I found out later that she passed on that night. It was just another reason I was assuming the worst.
The night continued on anyway as we all enjoyed games and music. My brother and I rode the golf cart around taking turns driving. The air was turning crisp and dusk began to approach. Everyone was starting to get hungry, after all it was Thanksgiving.  Sweet aromas fill the air and leaked out the open windows drawing our attention to the kitchen. I could smell the turkey baking in the oven, and the ham was roasting slowly.
Finally, dinner was ready, and I was off gathering all the kids. Sauntering past my late great-grandmother’s room, I noticed that Eric was laying down with an ice pack on his head. My mom was perched next, her nose was scrunched slightly, accenting the worry lines just under her eyes. Her fingers were curled against the palm of her hand, and her fidgeting refused to cease. Their lips were moving, but their voices remained hushed, especially against the barking dogs and humorous voices coming from the other room. Continuing on to the kitchen, I tried to fight the urge to turn back and listen.
My nana asked me where my mother had wandered off to, and I pointed her in the direction of my great-grandmother’s room. She came back a few moments later with a pale look upon her face.
Gesturing for my grandfather to follow her outside, I turned toward my eldest brother who returned the questioning look. Little did we know that right at the moment we were going to have to step up and take control. After that, the night started to become hazy with the feeling of shock and desperation.
Sirens rang in the distance, and we were all ushered out onto the deck. John, my older brother stayed inside, while I watched the kids out on the deck. I felt like my heart was slowing down, beating with the clock that hung on the wall, tick-tock, as if time were running out. The sirens grew louder and louder until they were ear deafening, and then they disappeared into the night. Scratches from the dogs halt, and the crickets ceased their noise. Silence suffocated us like a jacket with a stuck zipper.  All smells vanished without a trace. The turkey dinner left waiting for us seemed to a figment of the imagination hidden behind the dark reality that was setting in.
“Peyton, Jamer, what’s going on?” The kids asked bewildered by the sudden arrival of paramedics. There were many answers filtering into my mind, but I refused to poison their ears with bad thoughts. Hope was all they could have right now. Jamison had turned a shade whiter, and worry flooded his auburn eyes.
A few trucks had arrived before the ambulance had, and the first responders were already taking action. My mother came out and told me that they were just here to check on Eric, but I knew deep down she was only saying that for my protection. If I could’ve broken down right there and disappeared to another room, I would’ve, but I had little ears around me, and one heard too much.
Ana, my younger sister, started to bawl, and that’s when I knew that I couldn't show my emotion right now. It wouldn't be fair. Whisking her off to another side of the deck, I held her, so she didn't have to see anymore. Jamison, my brother who was less than a year younger than me, glanced over at me with pain taking over the worry in his eyes, but he nodded once knowing that he too, would have to sit this one out.
Jamison trudged over and took Ana away to distract the other kids on the deck, and I escaped inside to check on my older brother and Eric. John sat in the den closest to the room gazing down at the floor. He didn’t want to come to terms with what was happening, and none of us did, so I walked over and sat next to him. John was trying to stay strong, his green eyes strained with pain. I rested my head against his shoulder to show him that I was feeling the same way.
My mind started to wander back to the last family dinner we all had together. It was Easter. Eggs were hiding with secrets waiting for us to find them. Games, such as donut-on-a-string, were set up. Dinner had been a roasted ham that my grandmother had spent all day slaving over. The cauliflower was cooked to perfection with cheese cooked just enough to be not too sticky, but just right. My brother’s were rambling on about John’s previous football game, and they started spewing football terms. Eric had joined in, and laughter echoed peacefully through the house. Now today, the house was filled with soundless whispers being shared with only those chosen to hear. Our dinner sits forever waiting, uneaten, on our plates. Elated faces became constricted by the fear of what’s to come.
Medical jargon was being thrown in the air, but after a while I stopped listening, and headed to the stairs to wait. They knew this wasn’t a simple stroke, or heart attack scenario. Soon, Eric was being carted off on a gurney, and the first responders got stuck at the doorway. I looked up from the ground and saw Eric, and to this day, I’ll always remember the exact words he said to me because to me when something bad is happening family isn’t suppose to give up or run, they’re supposed to stay.
He looked at me offering a smile, and said, “What’s up pey-pey? I’ll see you soon.” Eric never said the words goodbye, not once because he knew he’d be back. His eyes were drifting closed as they continued to carry him past me. Later on they carted him off to Bennington Hospital where he was then told he had twenty-four hours left to live, and they gave him a choice. He could go to Albany, the closest hospital, or he could go to Dartmouth. Eric chose Dartmouth because it would be easier for his family to get to him.
“Pey, on the way to the hospital they lost Eric.” My nana said not looking me in the eyes. My world stopped. There was nothing around me anymore. I glanced to the right to see the now cold dinner and felt the same cold shiver. The Turkey stood there basking in glory, and yet, it remained uneaten. When we had arrived we all were basking in a sense of glory, but now we all felt like we were empty, unsatisfied. A hand crept on my shoulder, and I shook, startled.
“It’s okay, Pey. They were able to resuscitate him.” John said. My heart rate slowed down a bit, but it would never beat the same until I was standing back in my house talking with Eric like it was an ordinary day, and we would be arguing about how I did the dogs that past morning.
“Abby needs to have two big scoops, Pey.” Eric would argue.
“I forgot. I’ll go give her more.” Those two lines seemed to play on replay. How stupid those little arguments were, and yet they seemed so meaningless in the end. If Eric had died, I would be missing a piece of me because he is the only father figure I’ve known.
Eric ended up staying at Dartmouth for a month, and he came home two days before Christmas only to be taken to Brattleboro hospital a few weeks later. He’s not better today, but he’s better than he was two years ago. Recently he has had few health problems, and they still don’t know what happened that day. We got some basic information though. Doctors said the fluid around his heart had started to constrict it, now all that’s left behind is scar tissue. Looking back at the signs, I had no idea he was that sick. I had no idea the night would end in flashes of blue and red. To be honest, I wish I did know, so that maybe he could’ve gotten help sooner, but all I can look at is the fact that he’s still here.
In family there comes times when the road forks, and you have a choice whether or not to stay strong or to crumble. Staying strong sometimes means you have to sacrifice your own beliefs in order to make sure those around you are taken care of. You have to rise above the situation instead of falling underneath it only to be stomped on like a bug on the sidewalk. Families have to make these choices together, not alone, but as one.