I don’t know what happened that night. It was all a blur of tears, confusion, and honestly, horror. I happened to look out of my window that was dripping from the humidity outside, and I saw lights. Red for the terror, and white for the emptiness. They were flashing back and forth so quickly the colors molded together. I couldn't process what was going on. When I realized that it was a firetruck, an ambulance drove up being it. Worried about our elderly neighbors, thinking one of them was hurt, a solitary tear rolled down my cheek. I kept watching out my window, eyes darting back and forth, and back again, trying to filter in the scene that was in front of me. When I finally gathered my composure and remembered to be grateful it wasn't my family in this situation, I heard a whistle. Strong and solid. I would know it anywhere. Then, once I realized it was my daddy, MY DADDY, whistling, I heard him yell, “Over here, guys! Over here! Hurry!”. My heart dropped at the speed of light, coming down with a solid crash that shattered my insides. I was too scared to realize what was going on. Too scared to cry. Too scared for anything.

After moments of watching the stretcher be rolled out of the ambulance, I knew something had gone horribly wrong. And at the speed the EMS workers were running, I had a strong feeling it was something big. I ran up to my door in my bedroom, and stormed out, standing at the top of the stairs. All I heard was my daddy crying “I don’t know! I don’t know!” every time he was prompted for an answer by the strange people who had made themselves at home in my mom's personal space. He began to tell the story of what happened. “We were laying in bed, I had already gone to sleep, and Brandi woke me up, saying I was snoring too loud. I told her I was sorry, and I got up to go to the bathroom. I came back and she was slurring her speech tremendously, and she had a look in her face like it was scaring her as much as it was scaring me. Then she tried to stand up, and just...collapsed on the floor, unconscious.” The man who, apparently, was in charge of the four men told my dad nothing, and was saying words to the other men that grumbled together, that made no sense to me at all. I was too scared to go down there, and when I finally did, one of the strange men pushed me out of the way, and then my dad did the same. I kept asking what was going on, over and over and over again, and everyone was acting like I didn't exist. I got so frustrated that I started to walk back up my stairs. Out of nowhere my grandmother showed up, nearly chasing me up the stairs to my bedroom. She yelled at me to shut my shutters in my room, and shut my door. I did as she told me, shutting out any further information I could have gotten about what was going on with my mommy. I was so terrified.

It was about 3:30 in the morning when I had finally cried myself into a pretty deep sleep. I woke up to my grandmother whispering “Carrie! Carrie, wake up!” and her sticking my cell phone to my ear. It was my dad. He was crying as he said “Hey, Bear. How are you?” Still mad at him, I didnt answer. “I wanted to let you know whats going on with your Mom. The ambulance took us to Trident, and they're about to transport her down to MUSC. She had a stroke, Bear.” I just said “Okay” with the least bit of effort I could, knowing I was on edge of breaking. “I love you. I love you so much. And I love your mom, we all do. And we're gonna try to make sure she's okay, okay? Goodnight.” And he was gone, quick as he called. I handed my phone back to Grandma and she went back down the stairs to the living room. I was too confused to do anything but sleep.

I woke up the next morning, and trying to be an adult, called my Godmother, letting her know what was going on. She, too, started crying as soon as she heard the news. She told me she was on her way to the hospital, and that she would send her husband, Ronnie, to pick up my sister, Madison, and my brother, Parker. I went down the stairs trying to keep my composure, and softly let Grandma know that Ronnie was coming to pick them up and take them to his house, so she and I could go down to the hospital. I got myself, my brother, and my sister dressed, and Ronnie showed up within 30 minutes. He left with the kids at the same time Grandma and I left for the hospital. Little did I know, It was going to be a tremendously long day. One of the longest I'd ever had.

We got to the hospital, and walked into the 6th floor waiting room with no tears, prepared to face whatever news we were going to get. That “no tears” aspect was broken as soon as I walked in and saw everyone there to support my Mom. The waiting room was packed from wall to wall with familiar faces of relatives from her side of the family, but the face I was looking for wasn't there. I didn't see my daddy. I spun around, looking in all directions for the familiar face I needed, and faced the door. He walked in with bags under his eyes the size of his cheekbones, face swollen and puffy from crying, and one tear rolling down his left cheek. He gave me one look, hugged me tight, and tears started rolling down his face almost as fast as the ones rolling down mine. We stood there like that for many moments, when finally he grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eyes, saying nothing except “You know, you don't have to be so strong. It's okay.” I wet my tee shirt some more with all the tears that were rolling down when my Mama (my Mom's mother) walked up and gave me a hug. She just hugged me and hugged me until she couldn't anymore, and looking even more tired, stressed, and heartbroken than Dad, said “My baby's gonna be okay. She's strong. And she's stubborn. But most of all, she's my baby. I need her to be okay. I need it.” I just nodded in agreement and sat down in a corner, trying to soak in everything that was going on. I needed her to be okay, too.

That one day still sits in the back of my head, remembering all the bodies that rolled in and out of the room, all the hugs I got and the “We're here if you need us” and “I love you”s, they all had smashed together into one big blur. It was overwhelming, really, the amount of people who wanted to support my mom. But the only thing they did for me was make it more real. They made it to where I was suffocating in my own self, drowning in my thoughts and creating rivers of my own tears. That was the Sunday after she was taken to the hospital, and there was obviously going to be a long road ahead of us.