A defining moment

I was still blank in disbelief. My mind was in disorder. I went from confused to disbelieving within seconds. It just could not be. This wasn’t happening to me. I felt sick to the stomach with panic. My stomach had knots in it and the acid bitterness rising in my throat filled my nostrils making them burn. The sourness in my mouth seemed unbearable. I could hardly breathe. My body was trembling. I wanted to ask whether I had heard correctly but I couldn’t bring myself to formulate any words as the questions came flooding into mind. My thoughts were so overwhelming at that point that even I couldn’t comprehend them. I could see my brother crying in my uncle’s arms but I seemed to hear nothing for that moment. My whole body seemed separated from my mind. Even I felt distant from myself. I didn’t want to be in my own skin. I didn’t want to be experiencing what was already happening to me. I just sat there vacantly glaring at my family weeping.

Darkness had fallen over me. A shadow was cast on my thoughts. I was recovering from my disbelief. Gathering my strength, I focussed on my uncle. Some how comforting myself with the idea that maybe I had interpreted all this incorrectly. “Sorry. Could you repeat what you just said?” I wished the earth could swallow me up because he gave me this sorrowful look of pity and I felt the comfort of uncertainty crumble as the shock seemed to freeze the blood in my eyes as they itched with the burn of tears. The silence returned. How could this be? How could this be happening to me? Why? Why now? The questions seemed to fade into infinite oblivion. I became a victim to my body’s reaction. I cried. I cried because I realised how terrible the truth really was. I started to wonder what would become of my life. Feeling empty and distraught, all I could manage to do was cry. The pain was so severe. I couldn’t bring myself out of it until my eyes dried. I couldn’t cry anymore. Sitting there waiting for my mind to clear up, I rubbed my swollen eyes and looked up and saw the rest of my family.

“Dad has left us,” he said one last time. It came as no shock when he said it for the third time. There was a thickness in the air of the room. My hearing had improved and I was suddenly aware of how quiet everyone was as they watched me in pity. There was a feeling of loneliness even though so many members of the family sat next to me on my bed. None of them could even touch me although their hands were on my skin. I could not feel them. Numbness went through me as I glared through my eye sockets as if peeping through the scopes of another child’s eyes. I wasn’t there. I was physically intact but somehow I didn’t feel like I was there.