“Oh. My. Gosh! She is wearing the same dress as me!”

Things like this once mattered to me, but that was before my dad was rushed into the emergency room. The moment my mom pulled me out of class to tell me my dad had been taken to the ER was a moment I will never forget. All of my childhood memories with him came flooding back, good and bad and overwhelming sadness filled my body. My stomach dropped and I felt like my world came crashing down. Seeing my mom cry was like the impossible was happening. Adults weren’t supposed to cry. My mom was the strongest person I knew and crying wasn’t normal.

She wouldn’t tell my why he had been taken; I just knew it was really bad. We rushed over to the hospital, her hand in mine as we drove. I remember her hand was wet from her tears and it felt weak and soft. She kept telling me she loved me and that everything was going to be okay. I kept saying I wish it would have happened to me and not him.

We got to the ER and I wasn’t allowed to go see him, only my mom. I wasn’t very happy. I knew the doctors were going to take care of him, but I wanted to touch his hands and tell him I loved him. Five hours later my mom came out and told me he was going to be admitted and had to stay in the hospital. He had a blood clot that started in his leg and traveled up to his lungs. The doctors told me he got very lucky that it didn’t travel to his heart.  I tried to stay strong for my dad and go to school, but I ended up being a mess. So from there on I stayed by his bedside. I hated seeing him weak and sick. He received shots in his belly and had wires and tubes all over him. My daddy looked so sick and I couldn’t do anything to help him, which killed me. One night we were visiting him and he wanted to play cards. I ended up beating him almost every time at Doubles Solitaire. I am still not sure if he let me beat him, but I don’t want to know. He looked over at me and said, “Hey Emmy, go get me Subway” I just laughed and looked at my mom. She gave me that look and we went and drove to Subway.  We snuck the subs into the hospital and brought a little something for his nurse. Thankfully he only had to stay in for two weeks and we could bring him home. He wasn’t completely healed and eight months later he is almost completely well. It has been a long journey and a long eight months, but I would do it all over for him. This is a moment where I don’t care if another girl has the same dress as me. My outlook on life was completely changed, forever. I learned that those little things no longer matter.