My Everest Day Narrative

Tears streamed down my face. Each falling in time with my rigid breath and heavy sobs. One never forgets a night such as this. A night spent in the halls of the oncology ward, just feet away from a woman who I loved, and who I would never get the chance to tell. I remember this experience vividly. All the way back to the moment I found out my Aunt Kirsten had stage IV breast cancer, which marks the cause of the most grievous night of my life. At approximately 11:30 pm, the world quiets to a whisper as slowly the populous falls asleep. And on one fateful night, at approximately 11:30 pm, last year in May, my Aunt fell completely silent. I lay motionless in my bed, oblivious to my surroundings and the news that was soon to come. It was a long
In my mind, it was easily twice that. The quiet hum of the radio and the rain, that appeared to come from nowhere, were the only sounds to pierce the blistering silence. I gazed out the window and began allowing it to sink in. As the thought entered, tears exited, and I remained silent while I thought back to our last encounter. It was Easter Sunday and about half of my stepfather’s large brady bunch family had gathered at his sister Juliana’s house for a meal. It’s the typical gathering place of the clan. At the moment of arrival I greeted my grandfather (step, of course) with a strong embrace. He and I are quite close. Kirsten was the next relative for me to stumble upon. Our conversation that day lasted no longer than a few moments, and it was the only one we had. “Hello, Cailin.” she said with a smile. Something about the Felz Family was always rather
Both were crying and so was I. To be honest, I don’t remember much of what happened afterward. I think it’s because we didn’t say much. I do remember a few moments later though, when my cousin Jory (who is Juliana’s daughter) came to pick up her mother and say her goodbyes. At this point my stepfather had already gone back into the room. I said “hi” to Jory and she told me to stop crying, because I was going to make her cry. All of which occurred as she began to wipe tears from her eyes. We had a miniscule moment of family time before she and my mother wanted to go back in and say goodbye to Kirsten one last time. I turned around in the doorway to let them pass and as I did, I saw her. Lifeless and jaundiced. Her whole body was so relaxed that her jaw hung open and she appeared to be sinking into the bed. It was terrifying. I decided that staying out of the room was a good idea, and so I returned to my position in the hallway, rolled myself into a little ball, and turned off the