A moving narrative written by Xin Hui, a budding young writer with a sensitivity for details. Xin Hui is currently a Secondary One student at Commonwealth Secondary School.
The Most Unfortunate Day of My Life
Sometimes things are hard to forget, especially things that make you feel grief. And guilt – the dirtiest feeling. It is like a hole in my heart that can never be healed. A part of me has been taken away, my best friend, my confidante is gone forever.
It was an ordinary day, so ordinary that I decided to go out and have some fun with my friends. My father was home, so I asked. I did not get what I wanted to hear – “It’s getting late my dear, so ‘no’ is the answer.”
I protested, pointing out that it was only 4pm and the location was near. My father was firm. He did not give in. We started quarrelling, but it was no use. I became angry and grabbed my bag from the table and left the house. Before I stepped out, I heard a faint thud, as though something had dropped on the floor. However, I did not look back.
I was not back till later at night, around 9pm to be exact. I did not receive a single text message from my father the entire time I was out. I merely thought he had finally understood.
I entered the house. The atmosphere seemed creepy and dark. It was so quiet, the slightest movement would sound like thunder. I tiptoed carefully across the room. Trying not to bump or trip on anything. Maybe my father had gone out? After this afternoon’s altercation, I was relieved I did not have to face him just yet. Deep in thought, I suddenly stumbled over something and fell. When I looked back, I saw the outline of a body. I immediately shrieked at the top of my lungs. I scrambled to my feet and fumbled for the light switch on the wall. When I finally turned it on, I screamed again.
My father was on the floor – unconscious.
I had the shock of my life.
I went down on my knees and knelt beside him. I picked up his hand. It was icy cold. I jerked and dropped it. My father…he was dead. I placed my hand on his chest, resting above his heart that was no longer beating, because of me.
I knew my father had health issues. He had problems with his heart. I should not have left the house so wilfully. If I had not, I would have had enough time to rush him to the hospital – save him. He would still be alive now.
I cannot stop blaming myself for what had happened to my father. This guilt will stay with me forever.
I remember when he would push me on the swing at the playground when I was four… When he taught me how to ride a bike when I was seven… Took me to Disney Land when I was nine… Congratulated me when I scored well for my PSLE (Primary School Leaving Examinations) when I was twelve… Now the list will never continue…
That was the most unfortunate day of my life. A mistake that can never be forgiven. All because of me.