That Day

It was a snowing that day. Soft, white flakes were absorbed into the hard cement sidewalk. The sun was bleary, but still shone bright despite it being December. After a while, the snowflakes stayed, sticky on the ground. Like rice cakes that were just made. People were rushing around with umbrellas, trying to get to work on time. Outside the window, it was just a big mass of black and white. It was melancholy that day. Even the clouds showed it. They frowned in sympathy, and apologized for the snow they caused. The sun showed full confidence, but it was dimmed because it was so far away. The frost began to form on windowpanes and car windows. Mittens and hats were dug out of suitcases, and scarves were knitted. It was that one day when the realization of the cold hit everyone. Fall coats were ditched, and winter coats were used. They were crumpled and tired from being in a year of hibernation. Everything in the world seemed gloomy that day, but the snow shone bright. Before anyone noticed, another inch of snow had fallen, making it nearly impossible for the buses to go around. Many people ditched work and stayed at home that day. That cold, cold winter day.
I gingerly took a step outside the house, and instantly came back inside. This was only my second week at work after desperately trying to get a reasonable job. My sister had left already, before the snow started to pile up. I finally decided to simply stay at home that day, it wouldn't do that much harm. At 24, the world was still so vague and brilliant. I wanted to explore it all. Go on vacation to Italy, work in Singapore. I thought about the wildest fantasies that a human mind could. I was proud of myself though, for being able to maintain a steady lifestyle. Many of my classmates failed college, or just dropped out in desperation. After the second year, only ten out of around fifty friends dropped out. Considering the fact that they were all at the top of the class in high school, the fact that they found college too hard was profound. I studied my hardest, focusing only on school, and finally made it out this past summer. The year was 1994, and China was still recovering from the hard rule of Communism. I didn't want to stay home that day, but I simply had no choice. I kept reminding myself that this was reasonable. It would be troublesome to ride the bus in this snowy weather. There were practically no bicycles outside either. It seemed like everyone opted out of work today. Like everyone didn't want to go, fearing something dreadful would happen.
At the break of dawn, my father got checked into our local hospital because of lung cancer. I knew this would've been inevitable, because he loved to smoke. I remember, our entire house was buzzing with worry. No one expected this, not this bad. It felt like even the foundation was rocking because it couldn't hold this much grief. My father acted like his normal self, telling everyone not to worry, and that he was strong enough to make it past this little obstacle. I knew that he was lying, but I didn't mention it. It would just bring about more sadness and I couldn't take anymore. I was laying on my bed, worrying if my boss would fire me or not when the phone rang. Its shrill beeping cut through the deafening silence.
"Got it!" I said, though no one was present.
"Hello?" I asked tenderly, it was odd to have anyone call in the early morning.
"Hello, good morning. I'm calling from the hospital. I'm assuming this is his daughter then. Well, I have some bad news and some good news. Which do you want to hear first?" The person said, speaking in a soft voice, like the ones adults use on little toddlers who just threw a tantrum.
"Um, what bad news? What good news?" I asked, a dreadful feeling clung onto me and I shivered.
"Concerning your father."
"My father?"
"Yes, so please pick," the assistant said, already feeling impatient.
"Um, I'll take the bad news first then," I replied and bit my lip. The whole house echoed with my answer, and I sank down into a couch.
"Well, the bad news is that, well, your, uh, father, he's dead. Just now," I stopped. Time froze. The color drained from my face and the phone dropped out of my hand. It bounced on the ground with a dull sound. The trees whooshed, and the wind stopped. The sun fled behind a cloud, afraid for my response. The floor below bustled with activity, no clue of what was going on in our apartment. The ground creaked, and I slid onto the ground. Curled up in the fetal position, sobs escaped as I rocked myself back and forth. The world was ending, or so it seemed like it was. No one was around to feel my grief. Not my mother, not even my sister. Probably laughing with her friends. At that moment, I felt outrage that no one understood me. Why couldn't they have been here? Aren't I more important than work? With a scream, I threw my fist towards the wall, breathing hard. The pain registered as I noticed the slow but steady trickle of blood from my knuckles. Nothing could save me now, I thought as I lay there. But I didn't hear the good news yet! I couldn't give up yet, not like this. I grasped my courage, which was failing me at the moment. I cleared my throat, which only made me cry harder. I grabbed the phone which was dangling from its cord on the table. With a feeble voice I muttered, "what's the good news?"
"Oh honey, it's alright. He died without any pain whatsoever. It was quite unusual, but peaceful," The nurse said, feeling sympathetic now.
A relieved sigh escaped me. I thought to myself, I would rather him die peacefully than die in pain. But I would rather him not die at all, that thought threw myself into harder sobs. I managed the energy to punch in the numbers to my sister's cell phone.
"Hello?" She answered. Hearing her voice, I couldn't do it, I couldn't tell her. I heard giggling in the background and I inferred that she was hanging out with her coworkers. I managed to tell her that our father passed away. The phone hang up with a click, and I went back to my original position on the floor. Several minutes later, the door burst open and my sister rushed in, pink-faced from the cold. She instantly saw me curled on the floor and she knew I wasn't merely kidding. Seconds later, she was by my side, patting my back. Whispering to me that it was okay. I heard the distant sound of bells as I was swallowed by the darkness.
When I woke up, I was in my bed. Heavy blankets were thrown over me and I heard quick whispers outside my door. Looking at my clock, I realized I was out for a solid three hours. I walked outside, the boards creaking behind me. When I walked in, my mother and my sister looked up and grew silent. I waved a bit, and joined them on the couch. All the lights were out, but a candle was lit. A blue one, for my father's favorite color. That day, the whole house was in mourning. The sun hid behind the clouds the entire time after the phone call. The frost melted, even though there was nothing to melt it. The house was warm, but cold. We never knew that it could be so fast, a person's passing. So fleeting, life. You'll never know how much yours is worth to other people. No matter how much they express it. I knew that day, when my father died. I instantly knew, that my life wouldn't ever return to the golden days. The golden days when my father was alive were gone. And it was replaced by silver days. Other days may go forgotten, but that day will forever remain etched in my memory.
~~~