The Day That Is Mapped In My Mind For Life

GCSE Religious Studies (Philosophy & Ethics)

Friday the 21st of December, it started of as any other day, the normal rush in the morning, the frantic putting on of uniform and the quick wash of my face. I stumbled down the stairs, pulling my jumper over my head and practically falling through the kitchen door. I was greeted with the familiar smell of burnt toast, my dad complaining about something on the television and my mum’s reassuring smile. I smiled back while forcing my schoolbooks into my bag. For the last year this same normal routine occurred every morning but always at the back of mind was the thought of my Granda.

Granda had been ill for the last two years. He was in constant care of the hospital. I avoided going to see him, I wanted to remember him as he was, the soft grey hair that he took great pride in, the familiar smile, which lit up my face and the kind, caring humorous personality, which never changed. The last weeks had proved a very different story. The hospital knew he was dieing, my parents knew he was dieing and I knew he was dieing.

As I ran through the front door, my blazer in one hand, a butter soaked piece of toast in the other I yelled bye to my mum and set of for school. I shivered as the winter air hit me. My dad had been at the hospital all night. I smiled to myself as I remembered Granda’s laugh. I tried to pick myself up, constantly reminding myself that it was the last day of school and Christmas was in four days. Seeing my friends happy, reassuring smiles made me a lot better.

The carol service took place ...

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The carol service took place that day and as I stood in the choir singing aimlessly I could feel the warm tear trickle down my cheek and land on the sheet of music below me. I stood in a daze, people’s voices echoing in my head, thoughts building up. My friend must have knew what was wrong as she took my hand and gave it a tight reassuring squeeze. I didn’t even know why I was crying. Normally, being and participating in the schools carol service was one of my favourite times of the year but this day, as I sat listening to Mr. McBain pray for people who lost love one’s at Christmas a deep shudder crept all over my body and I knew something had happened.

My fingers trembled as I dialled my mum’s number. It seemed to take a lifetime for her to answer. When she did, I didn’t hear the happy normal sound of my mum’s voice instead I heard a trembling, quiet, anxious voice bringing the news which I had had expected but was not quite prepared for. Granda had died. I hung up staring at the phone trying to convince myself that maybe it was all a dream. I just wanted to go home. I wanted my parent’s reassurance and most of all their love.

I had to wait for a bus at 1 o’clock. My friends were so understanding, promising me everything was going to be ok. The news didn’t sink in until I was by myself. As I sat on the bus, staring through the window the tears rolled out of my eyes. I buried my head in my hands feeling sick with emotion. Christmas, a time when families are supposed to be happy and together. I knew we’d all be together but not for the happy occasion everyone else would be.

Over the next few days’ life didn’t seem fair. The funeral passed, two days before Christmas breaking not only my heart but my relatives as well. I saw my dad cry for the first time ever. Christmas passed as a blur. Everyone said that time would heal and in the end it did. But one think I know is that I’ll never forget that Christmas and I’ll never forget my Granda.

Fiona Crawford 11C