Waiting Rooms

I was tired, but then again so was everyone else. my limbs were aching, heavy and unwilling to move. The overpowering stench of disinfecting sanitizer was permanently set into my lungs. By now my whole family had made a home out of the uncomfortable waiting room. When the doctor came into the room for the first time after having my grandpa arrive in the ambulance, we all held our breath. Anticipation had my heart pumping like a basketball pounding against the floor; the constant thump-thump was what filled my ears. I remember the intimidating doctor towering over my fragile dad, because he was the only one brave enough to confront the news. I watched my dad’s forehead crinkle more and more as the doctor kept talking. The doctor patted my dad on the back and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. We embraced ourselves. It was all up to my dad, he was either going to relieve the burden that weighed on our minds or he was going to trample our optimism. I was wondering how my dad felt at that very second. How would it feel to hold your whole family’s hopes? The respect for my father bloomed. As he opened his mouth to speak I had the urge to cover my ears and dash out of the room. 

“He had a severe stroke.”

 The thought of my grandpa, who was always so strong and full of life, lying limply on a cold, stiff hospital bed rushed to my mind. 

“He won’t remember most of us, or most of his life.”

I clearly remember the broken look on my grandmother’s tear streaked face. Even though the hospital was buzzing with activity, I could only hear the heart wrenching sobs of my family. Tears continued to roll down their red, splotchy cheeks. My mind was a hurricane, brimming with thoughts, memories, and voices of my grandpa who would never be the same again. It changed our lives.