Home Alone

Growing up in a large family, I rarely had time alone. As a presumptuous teenage who thought I was grown up, able to handle anything like an adult, and certainly didn't need my loving father, mother, two sisters, and brother. If ever I found solitude for any length of time, invariably someone would find me, innocently. Wednesday, October 12, 1988, I thought would be no different. Though the day started out as ordinary as the day before, this longest day of my life, would be etched in my memory forever, for it marked the end of a young life. Sadly, a very close friend of mine, whom I had seen, and laughed with only hours before the car accident, had died. The image of that last visit will live forever. Live a dream, I can still see her stepping out of her burgundy sedan, wearing a yellow sweater and gray skirt with gray pumps, walking towards me, squinting, on that gorgeous sunny October day, with the wind slightly blowing her blonde hair around her smiling face. That is how I will always remember "Ang."

I received word of the accident when I happened to be home alone. My family had taken off after school for an afternoon of shopping, and I decided to stay home and take advantage of a rare opportunity, to be by myself. At first, I just sat in complete silence wondering what I should do with my time. I straightened my room a little bit, then lounged on the bed and flipped through by new Seventeen magazine. Barely an hour into my afternoon, I settled on the reclining end of our sectional sofa to watch whatever television program I chose, when the phone rang. Irritated, I flung the afghan off of my lap, put the reclining foot of my seat down, and begrudgingly got up and went to the kitchen to answer the telephone, which was attached to the wall. Carol, a friend of my parents and an older friend of mine, was on the line. After chatting for a minute, she asked to speak with one of my parent. When I told her no one was home but me, she nonchalantly asked me if we'd talked to any of Ang's family lately.

"We saw her and [her mother] in town today, after school. Why?" I asked.

"I don't want to worry you with it since you're by yourself," Carol replied.

"Come on Carol, I'm a big girl. I'll be fine!" I assured her as I learned by back against the kitchen wall, prepared to listen quietly.

I wish now that I had never persuaded her to tell me, because what she had to say would change my life forever. In total disbelief, I slid my back down the wall and sat on the floor, with my knees under my chin. Ang was dead? This close friend, who had become a part of our family, was dead? There must be some mistake. I just saw her. I just talked to her only a few hours ago!

The afternoon that Ang died, mom had picked my sister and me from school and we stopped at a corner gas station to pick up some snacks before heading home. Ang, driving her burgundy sedan and accompanied by her mother, pulled in for gas. After spotting us parked by the store, Ang walked over to say hi. Eyeing the potato logs with cheese dip I was eating, she said she suddenly hungry. I offered her one, but she said she was going inside to get her own. After a brief conversation about our day, she said goodbye to us, turned, walked away, and rounded the corner of the building. I don't know what made her playfully poke her head back around the corner and wave a big goodbye, but it's an image I'll never forget. I'm happy that she did, because I didn't know then it would be the last time I'd ever see her, and it's now a playful image by which I remember her.

Suddenly, I wanted my family back home with me. I couldn't stand the silence. I wanted the phone to ring again for someone to tell me is was all a big mistake. Wrapped in the afghan that only moments ago lay peacefully on my lap, I huddled on the couch, under the living room window. Separating two slats in the horizontal blinds that covered the window, I watched through that tiny opening into the night, willing every set of headlights coming down the road to turn into my drive. I don't know how many hours I waited there, staring into the darkness. When the headlights finally slowed and turned into the drive, I jumped up, letting the afghan fall to the floor. I swung open the door, and skipping the steps completely, raced out of the house and reached the driver's side of the car, just as it came to a stop. I clutched onto my dad, and between sobs, told him about the phone call.

The grief struck our whole family. Our playful, fun-loving friend, with whom we spent many hours every week, was suddenly gone, forever. The days faded to weeks that faded to months and years, but that Wednesday is a day etched in stone.

I thought I wanted to be by myself that day. I thought I was big enough to handle whatever Carol had to tell me over the phone, despite her misgivings. Before the day that brought grief and tremendous loss to our family, we had spent many hours with Ang, and now our friend was suddenly ripped from our lives. I also learned that day that I really was a kid who needed my family. Although it didn't take the tragedy to make the family important to me, it made me realize that time with them is precious. Right now is all I can count on. There are no guarantees for later.