There are two of the arguably worst scenarios in the whole world. First is being at an airport having to say good bye to someone you love and second is having someone you love being sent to the hospital. Unfortunately, I happen to be affiliated with the latter..

It always starts the same way, in the middle of a perfect day where you think that nothing bad can possibly happen, your phone rings and sometimes you answer it sometimes you don’t. But once you do, you’re going to end up wishing you never even owned a phone.

And then everything after that is just a big bad blur full of running, crying and trying-to-be-strongs. It just gets so surreal and somewhere in the middle of all the chaos you just stop for a second because you have to pinch yourself to check if it’s all really happening. And when you don’t find yourself waking up to what you hoped to be a bad dream- that’s when you start to hate everything.

You start to turn to God which can either be your only option or your LAST option. You make conditions with him like, “if he gets better I promise to go to church everyday for the rest of my life.” even if we know that promise will be quickly outlived. Or you start blaming Him, questioning Him and even doubting His very existence. Or validating His non-existence, if you’re aboard that boat..

And when you’ve done everything you possibly can to no avail, you start reminiscing the good times and the bad and realize that you would do absolutely anything to have at least just one more day like that. You cry at the fact that no matter how much you would want to do something, in reality there really isn’t anything you can do to instantly make everything OK.

So the next day comes which validates your fears of this tragedy being anything but a bad dream. And you muster every single nerve in your body to pull yourself out of bed and put on a fake smile and let out the coldest laugh.

This is life at it’s finest. No one said it was great. It hardly ever is.