On June 16, 2016 at 2:26 am, my mother opened my bedroom door and spoke these words: “Sara, I need you to wake up. It’s important. It’s about Kacy.” As I slowly gained consciousness, she continued with, “Sara, Kacy’s dead.”…
At that moment, the life I once knew no longer existed. My 19 year old sister was pronounced dead at the scene at 12:21am on June 16, 2016 when a tree fell directly on her vehicle while she was driving down the road.
I immediately slung my blanket off of me and against the wall and said, “What? What are you talking about!?” My mother continued standing motionless in my doorway as she told me that there were two men in the living room, one of which was the coroner.
I rushed out of my bedroom heading to the living room as if I was going to run the men out of our home. I’m still not sure what my plan was for when I reached the room where the two men stood. After making it halfway down the hallway, my brain finally began processing the words I had just heard. I turned around and ran back into my room where my mom was still standing. I stood in the middle of my bedroom and cried. My mom hugged me while saying, “I know, I know…”
Unfortunately, neither of us actually knew anything at this point and we had yet to grasp the reality of the horrific nightmare that we would now be living.
When we finally made it into the living room, there were two men standing in middle of the room. I remember standing with my back against my piano while the two men told us the story of my sister’s tragic death. I remember feeling faint and I felt my knees begin to buckle…I was hyperventilating. I slid down to the ground and tucked my head into the neck of my shirt because my uncontrollable crying was drowning out the voices of the two men and I was trying to listen to every horrific detail they told us. I guess one of the men noticed my panicked state because he said, “Do you want some water or something?”
I remember thinking that he was being rude and obviously didn’t realize the heaviness of the information he was telling my mother and I. I replied to him, “NO…just keep talking.”
I remember looking at my mother who was standing across the living room from me, she was standing, frozen, playing with her bottom lip, staring at the ground. She continued to do this for about an hour.
My uncle, who lived with my grandparents across the street from us, knocked on the door and came in. He was crying.
A few moments after the two men left our house, my grandmother showed up. She sat on the couch in my living room and was already talking plans of a “funeral” (I have come to despise that word since my sister died…I now prefer to use the word memorial). The fact that my grandmother was talking about arrangements seemed completely irrational to me. I felt like she was moving too fast…as if there was some chance that my sister was coming back.
Kacy’s dead. She died. She’s dead. My sister is dead. My sister is never coming home. Kacy’s dead…
Those are the words that kept replaying in my head continuously like a broken record. The harshness of the words reached deeper lobes of my brain each time I heard them.
Somehow, in the midst of walking around the house aimlessly, I thought to make hot tea and offered to make some for my grandmother and my mom.
My mom went into my sister’s bedroom and laid in Kacy’s bed, on her side, staring blankly at the wall. The next four or five hours are really a blur. My grandmother went back home to check on my grandfather. My mom stayed motionless in my sister’s bed for hours.
I’m still not sure what I did during those lonely hours…I know I went out onto my back porch around 3:30am and sat on the porch steps screaming and crying…saying Kacy’s name over and over and asking why, repeatedly. In the middle of wailing Kacy’s name, my words abruptly silenced when I saw the brightest shooting star go soaring through the sky…I know it was Kacy…telling me she was there.
I also remember standing in my kitchen for at least two hours just staring out the window and crying…crying harder than I knew my body could withstand.
I kept checking on my mother every hour or so. I would peek through the crack in my sister’s bedroom door and I could see that my mom’s eyes were open, but she was just staring at the wall…not sleeping and not alert, just completely frozen in a pitch black room that my sister once thrived in.
On June 16, 2016, I drifted off to sleep around 12:15am…at 2:26 am, my mother woke me to tell me that my little sister, my only sibling, my best friend, had died.
Almost three months have been marked off of the calenders since my sweet sister’s life was stolen.
Three months have passed since I left the front door unlocked waiting for my sister to come home.
Three months have passed since I texted my sister and received a reply.
Three months…three months since the loss of an entire lifetime.
Three months since I lost my baby sister.
My advice for readers? Tell your loved ones what’s on your mind. Tell them how much they mean to you. Hold their hand. Hug their neck. Don’t hold anything back. Touch their face and memorize every freckle, wrinkle, and scar. In a single second, your life could change in ways you never could’ve imagined and you’ll be left wishing you had just one more second.