The worst day in your life

[Fizzy]

I don't know if this thread was ever made, but I checked the first two pages and didn't see it so i'm assuming it hasn't.

Anyway, the worst day in my life happened almost two years ago. I talk about how fortunate I am in this life quite a bit. My family is the main reason for that, but two years ago, I was pushed to the breaking point. Now, i'm a fairly un-emotional guy. I say that with the meaning being I never show my emotions. I keep everything bottled up inside usually, I never really cry or show any sadness to anybody. I never experienced a death that really hit me close up until this point. I had lost my Great-Grandmother, but she was very old and I had braced myself for that. This all happened so fast I didn't know how to react.

Let me say I was closer to my Grandmother than anybody else at that point in time. I had always been incredibly close with her and I really loved her with all my heart. The doctor told her she had a sinus infection. She was having a tough time talking and breathing, but the doctor said it was because of the sinus infection blocking her airway or something like that. Fast forward about a month and she's on life support in a hospital bed. Turns out she had throat cancer that they hadn't known about until she was admitted into the hospital. The last time I saw her was a few days after she was admitted, she seemed like her normal self only without a voice. I had no idea she had cancer at that time, but I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach the entire visit. I didn't talk much to her, I couldn't look at her hooked up to all these machines so I stared at the ground for a majority of the visit. I left the room to leave and fought back tears. Again, I had no idea what was wrong with her, I just had such a terrible feeling that I will never forget. That was the last time I saw her. In a hospital bed, with no voice. I didn't go back to see her again. My Mom and Uncles broke the news to me that they were going to take her off life support. I told them I didn't want to see her before they did it. I wish I would have and I regret it every single fucking day. I saw her one fucking time for an hour. I should have been there every single day, I should have been there the fucking night she was admitted, and it haunts me, it fucking haunts me. I haven't even seen her tombstone because I refuse to go to her grave. I can't deal with it. So, it isn't so much as one day, it's like one day stretched out. Life goes on though and there's no use beating myself up over it. I consider that entire story as the worst day of my life and really, it's the only bad story I have to tell.

Well, that's off my chest, let's hear your stories.

 

[a0161613]

Well finding out my grandmpa had died was bad but finding out my uncle had died was worse. It was a car crash, he had two young daughters and it was so sudden. They had both been so important in me becoming a big football fan so that kind of changed my life and the life of my (very small) family in many ways.

But hands down, the single most toughest day of my life was going to the funeral of my mother in law. My wife (fiancee at the time) had moved to live with me but we moved back down after we found out that her mum had a very aggressive and extremely rare form of cancer. They weren't particularly close but the family was close knit and it hit them all hard when she finally passed after a short but painful fight. I had only known them for four or five years but it was a terrible day because I was accepted so quickly and warmly into the family. I'd never seen her such an emotional wreck and that 40 odd minutes in the actual funeral was indescribable and topped off a horrible few months that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy and only in the last year, have we been able to get back to normal.

 

[BK Styles]

I've mentioned it a little in other threads but the last year has been pretty damn horrible for me. Mid-March last year, I was in my student house, and the six of us who lived there were getting ready to go in for a presentation by one of our classmates on her final project. We were all getting up to leave when there's a lot of knocking at the door. My friend opens it, and its two of my coursemates; one of whom is the person who is meant to be giving the presentation.

So we're all a bit confused as they usher us into our front room; the one we were meant to be seeing the presentation of looks in a deep state of shock and very panicky. The other is in tears, and I mean uncontrollable volumes of them. Now, for the last few months, this person hadn't been showing up to lectures, and was told that she was coming dangerously close to being chucked off the course, so my natural assumption was that this was about that.

Anyway, they sat us down, and told us that when they'd got into uni, the lecturers had rounded up everyone that was about and called them into an emergency meeting. One of them then stopped, and just said two words. "Sylvia's died."

Sylvia was one of our coursemates. she suffered from a form of epilepsy, and had sometimes had seizures during lectures and rehearsals. A seizure in her sleep was the cause of death. She was also one of my closest friends who, since coming back from our Christmas break, I hadn't really spoken to for a while. But I'd worked with her on numerous projects and she was one of five people that I knew I could tell absolutely anything to, and she'd been probably the best friend I'd had when me and my ex broke up. She was also a good actress, and a very talented writer, to the point where she was directing and writing her own final project by herself. And she had an infectious personality; she could just say one word in an entire day and it could be the funniest thing you'd ever heard. And she very rarely spoke badly about anyone; only with real just cause did she ever speak ill of anyone. She was a beautiful, charming young lady who had just turned 21. Twenty fucking one.

Anyway, our house became the meeting point that day for people that hadn't been to University that day. And I can't remember much of that day, to be honest. I remember seeing my friends come round, my very best friends, come over and the feeling of being able to do nothing whilst they were physically destroyed by the news.

The next day was the worst. I hadn't shed a single tear, but I do remember that I ended up being the person who others used as a shoulder to cry on. Thefollowing day, we went in for another emergency meeting and were told numerous things, primarily that her final project would be carried on by anyone who wanted to do so (for me, and everyone else, a no-brainer). But in the middle of the meeting, the floodgates opened. I missed most of what was said because I had my head down and suddenly couldn't handle that she, one of the nicest, most wonderful people I've ever had the privelage to meet, was gone from my life forever. For the next two days, other than when I had to, and for when we had a sort-of wake in the local pub she drank in, I stayed in my room and cried for two days solid.

In June, several students in my year acted in and directed her show (I helped in the day with the technical set-up). Her script, though not finished, was untouched from her final draft before she passed, and it recieved massive acclaim from all who watched. It was a truely beautiful show, and one I know she would have been proud of, and I know that it did her justice. Just before the show and just after, I had the chance to speak to her mother. She recognised me from a Facebook post on her daughters wall, and though it was probably the most uncomfortable conversation I've ever had, I felt privelaged that she felt the need to speak to me and that I had the chance to say what I could about her daughter and about how wonderful a person she was.

Apologies for the length and depth. It's something that has been on my mind every single day since it happened, but the last couple of months has been the first time that I've been able to open up and talk about it.

It's been nearly a year, but I still think about you every day. Rest in peace, Sylv. xxx

 

[The Rob]

It was three days after my parents announced that there were splitting up. I was only twelve. It didn't really sink in at the time it was announced, I was very confused about it all. At first I just told myself that it would be a temporary thing but after three days the realisation that this was actually going to happen and it might last for the rest of my life hit me. I was in the bath, thinking about it, and THAT was when it hit me, and I had an awful panic attack right there and then. Was probably the most helpless I've ever felt in my life. Nearly nine years on, it's turned out to be brilliant. My Dad has remarried and my Mum has been with her partner for over six years, and I get along with all four of them brilliantly. But I can't recall a day in my life where I have felt THAT low.

 

[Paralyzer Z]

Even with all the humiliating school stories I have, the worst day of my life would have to be the day my parents almost divorced.

Up until 7:00PM that day in 2004 had been going very well,. So we had these friends coming down from New York to be closer to us in Florida, they where my Mom's friends. Her high school best friend, her husband, and their children where coming to move down here, and we decided to help them pack. My Dad who was never really close with them decided not to go, my brother and I indifferently went along to see the house. We expected to be back around 10:00 due to the aspirations and dreams they wanted us to hear (and help them move the equipment to accomplish them). When we get there the house is a mess, there are boxes and messed up furniture on the ground. While we spent close to 3 hours just looking at the paintings their kids had made, the wife (my mom's high school friend) decides to go out somewhere until 3:00 A.m for some reason. So due to the sheer mass of things in that unfinished, my mom and her friend's husband friendly talk and move the stuff around. After hours of boredom we finally went home around 2:00 in the morning.

This is where things go terribly wrong. My Dad was furious when we got back due to the overtime we spent there. I was only 8 years old and went to bed immediately due to my exhaustion of being out there for so long. So I'm just thinking in bed when I hear commotion outside, next I know 2 police officers are in my room. I thought it was cool to see them, and they asked me if I was OK. I went out into the kitchen to see my mom looking someone who would have just finished crying and my Dad was no where in sight. After a week or so of "vacation" my Mom told me the story. She told me brother and I that "Daddy thought that the night we were helping Rosa and Peter move that Peter and I where doing bad things". I thought as an 8 year old that it was simply an act of minor theft that they committed. I discovered nearly 6 years later that he thought the "bad things" was an affair. My Dad had been arrested that night after hitting my mother in the argument, and that he "resisted arrest". My parents have had a healthy relationship after the incident but I can't bear to think what would have happened if they had not reconciled to quickly. My life would be completely different. Anyway since then my father has not spoken to those people (who my mom had done nothing wrong with) and we have to keep every visit to them secret.

I am just glad that they still love each other and that I turned out better because of it.

 

[JWGunslinger]

The worst day of my life....that's a hard one to pick out. There are many moments in my life that have been very rough, losing my grandparents was hard because my mom and I lived with them in the early years of my life and they were very important to me but I was young and it was seen coming for some time.

Then there was my dog Tux who was my best friend in the world died out of the blue, that one was very hard even though he was just a dog. My family and I were driving home after a week of camping in the sand dunes and we stopped for gas about halfway home. I went to the back of the truck to check on the pups and Zeus came running over to the window but Tux didnt get up. I'd lost fish and hamsters and shit but this was my dog that had been with me for years since my dad picked him up off the side of the highway in Oakland when he was 5 months old, and losing him hurt me bad.

But the worst day of my life would have to be the day I learned that my close friend Alyssa had killed herself and she was only 15. We had been friends for years and always went camping together in the sand dunes every summer, and then one day my mom walked in my room right after I got home from school on the phone and she just dropped it and looked at me crying and said that Alyssa had just been found by her aunt hanging from a tree in the backyard. It wasn't just hard because we were close for so long but when someone is so young, you dont see it coming and they do it to themselves you wish that you could have done something and you blame yourself for not stopping it. Well that's exactly what I did, I blamed myself for not seeing a sign it was coming and became an alcoholic. For nearly two years I drank until I was numb and didnt go a few days without atleast getting buzzed, eventually my parents interviened and got me some help but I still hate myself a little for not being able to do anything, and I miss her every day.

 

[Theo Mays]

This one is cake for me and it is the day I had to give my father the ok to pass away. That sounds harsh, but let me explain. Midway through my 8th grade year of school my father found out he had lung cancer. My dad was (and still is) the toughest SOB I know, though my mom gives him a good run. Anywho, that was rough as it is but he was gonna fight through it. It was a rough stretch and he had his ups and downs but stayed positive throughout the whole thing. Freshman year of high school comes around and it is around October and my dad breaks the news that he has less than a week to live. Needless to say he powered through all that and then December rolled around. It got to the point where there was no chance of him living but he told my mom that he wouldn't die unless us kids (my older sister, me, and my kid brother) talked to him and gave him our blessing to go and that we'd be ok. Needless to say it was rough. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want my dad to die, but he was suffering and I finally broke down and did it. It was rough and the next night he passed away in his mid 40s.

 

[Dagger Dias]

The worst day of my life came in September of 2003. My parents went out of town for the week so I had the house to myself with our three dogs. All three of them were old at the time, two were 11 and one was 13. That's rather old for guard dog breeds, such as Hovawarts, which all three of them were. I knew that they were not going to be around much longer but each seemed to be in rather good shape for their age so I was not expecting what happened.

I let the dogs out into the backyard so they could run around a bit, much like every other morning. When they were done, I opened the door to let them in but one of them wouldn't go back inside. I couldn't get him to go up the steps, he whined and sat down. I tried to encourage him with some food, which was always flawless in getting his attention in the past. He wouldn't budge. Just sat there, looking sad. I let the other two back out to see if they could do anything. They each sniffed him, licked him, and ran back inside while he whined again and laid down in the grass. I tried to help push him up the stairs, but he wouldn't go back inside. I started to get worried, this was very strange behavior.

I had a friend come over and we helped him get onto the porch so he would at least be in a shaded area away from the sun and poured water into a bowl for him. He drank the water but now he wouldn't even get up, he just laid there looking sad. I had to get to school and my parents were out of town, I called them to let them know what was going on. They told me I still had to go to school and to have one of the neighbors watch the dog. I did that, but made it clear that they had to contact me ASAP if anything happened. Knowing it was going to be really warm that day, I made sure he was still in a shaded area and gave him a ton of water, several bowls completely full, and told my neighbor what to do.

I made it to school despite being a few minutes late and informed the people in the office of what was going on and they said I can go home if I get the call. It didn't even take until halfway through my first class of the day for me to get a phone call. The dog was doing worse, so bad that my parents had called the vet to come pick him up after my neighbor informed them that he was in worse condition. I rushed home, hoping I could get there before the vet did, but the vet had already been there. I started to go back to the car to head to the vet's office, but I got a call before I reached the front door. He didn't make it. My dog had died at the animal hospital.

I have never cried so much as I did that day, probably the most sad I have ever been in my life. It came out of nowhere. He was just fine the day before. I had grown up with that dog.... We got him when I was in 1st grade, and I was now in my senior year of High School. We were very close. I still had my other two dogs (they ended up going the same year, each a couple of months apart) but this loss hurt me the most because we were so close. I loved that dog. He was so smart and very protective of our family. He was also the alpha out of our three, so the other two never fully adjusted to the loss either. The other male seemed lost without his rival, and the female liked him more so she was likely heartbroken too. The worst part of it was not knowing what I could have done different. I still remember him laying there on the porch that day, looking at me with sadness in his eyes, it's almost like he knew it was his time to go and he was telling me goodbye.