I always thought my dad was a great driver. He sped through traffic and weaved his way out expertly, like a professional. Through snow and rain, he brang us where we needed to be, fast. But it was the Blizzard Of NYC that year that made a sweet visit to New York a horrible nightmare. My brother, Tommy, was in the backseat, sleeping. My big sister, Ally, was texting in the passenger seat, and my mom was trying to change Henry's diaper. My dad was trying his best to get us to New York, his windshield wipers swiping across the headboard quicker than life. I still remember him whistling impatiently, trying to find the quickest way to get out, to un-glue ourselves from the thick traffic. "Dad" I said, popping a Cheez-It in my mouth, "Are we almost there?" ""No, Sabrina, we're not" he said, griniding his teeth. Henry was crying as my mom tried to hush him down. My sister laughed at some text her boyfriend sent her and my little brother snored loudly. That's when it happened. When the whole world was making noises, a small car swirled in our path, and missed our car by inches. But just as we were to move up, a truck crashed into the back of our car, killing my mom, sister, and baby brother. But not me, Henry, and Dad. I remember the screaming, the ambulance sirens, the cries from my dad. I remember thinking, this cant be happening. Not to us. But it did. And soon enough we were just another one of those patients, eagerly awaiting to leave the hospital and join with our family. I had broke my arm since I was angled a certain way, and my dad was condemned to a wheel chair. I woke up, and blinked, clearing my vision. Within weeks I was fine, and as I crept down the marble floor of the hospital to see my dad lift himself into a wheelchair, I cried out and fell to the ground. "Where's mom? And Henry, Tommy, and Cindy?" I asked, my heart beat raging in my chest. If dad was like this, I had to see them. I had to know it would be okay. But it wasn't, only my little brother, Tommy, and my dad and I had survived. My brother, my sister, my mom. I didn't know what to think. "It's gonna be okay" my dad kept whispering in my hair as tears dropped to my shirt. But it wasn't. My little brother had suffered head trauma that caused him to lose his memory. "Oh my god" I whispered when I saw Tommy. He started screaming when he saw me. He didn't recognize his own sister. But than again, would I recognize my family if I were to see them as they were now? My dad, paralyzed. My brother, memory lost, vacancy in his eyes. My mom, gone. My sister, gone. Henry, gone. In just a seconds, in just a moment when a couple of snowflakes could pass by, my whole world was tumbling to an end. The picture of my family was cut out and changed. And New York didn't seem so great.
The Blizzard That Killed Us All
July 18, 2011