It was a Saturday, 23 April 2011, I am sitting in my room studying for my upcoming exam when suddenly the phone rings.  I notice my uncle’s caller ID and a surge of worry immediately rushes over me.  My uncle rarely calls me and when he does its always with bad news. It’s like he is the bearer of bad news. Anyhow, I pick up the phone and my worst nightmare comes true.

“Aruba, it’s your father,” he said with fear in his voice. “He’s been admitted to the hospital for food poisoning”. I’m coming to pick you up”. He ended the call and after 10 minutes he was honking outside of my brother’s house.  I get into his car and we start driving towards the hospital, or so I thought. A couple of minutes pass by and we reach a fork in the road. To the right, the hospital, to the left, the mosque.  My uncle turns on his turn signal, and to my dismay, the arrow flashes pointing left. My face turns pale white; my worst nightmare has come true.

“Why are we going towards the mosque?”, I ask impatiently holding back my tears. Khalu, please tell me! The hospital is in the opposite direction, why are we turning left?!

“I’m sorry Aruba, he had a heart attack”.  After hearing those piercing words I felt as if my whole world crumbled under my feet. I lost all feeling in my limbs, and my eyes transformed into a waterfall of tears.

“No, NO!” I screamed from the top of my lungs.