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A Most Terrible Post-Valentine’s Day
Written by Amanda Joseph
When I was fourteen, I was a butterfly with damaged wings; I felt as if I could not fly another day. I suppose I would later turn out to be stronger, and less dependent on my peers; Perhaps, the outcome was that my wings were to mend faster and healthier than ever before. When Phyllis, my caretaker died, what else could I do but wait, and let time heal my broken wound.
As the Morning of February 16th arrived, I could almost taste an ocean-like salty droplet of sweat that had dripped down from my forehead. I had just awoken from a terrible dream for which I could not remember. I knew something was going to happen today. I felt something was going to go terribly wrong. When I ran downstairs, my caretaker, Phyllis, was folding laundry and watching The Price is Right on channel two. I stared at her warm, milk-chocolate, 52-year-old complexion, still feeling slightly dizzy; I asked her what we were doing today. That usual affectionate smile answered, “We are going to drive around and do a few errands together, how does that sound, baby?” I smiled back, but found that something seemed ‘off’ about it; it seemed almost unnatural.
Right as noon came and left, we picked up an overweight, black and grey bunny rabbit from a center city Philadelphia elementary school. She had agreed to take care of it over the weekend as a favor to the teacher. Every so often during a red light Phyllis would turn to me and say, “Tell me a word, any word dawwwling,” in a mockingly chic way.” I’d utter a word, and she would make up a song to accommodate it. “Love,” I declared, thinking tenderly of the Valentine’s Day that previously passed by. “All you need is love, dun dah dah…dah dah…all you need is love, love; love is all you need.” Of course she would sing my favorite Beatles song to make me smile.
As day turned into night, I grew more worried about Phyllis. She looked slightly paler than usual. Sweat seemed to pour down her almost fragile looking face. She smiled that wonderful, glowing smile, but was obviously hiding something. She seemed in pain, but I thought nothing of it. We sat on the new leather smelling couches my parents recently purchased for our living room. We joked about things concerning life and love as always. As we sat opposite each other, I stared at the wooden based coffee table with the roughly sanded metal top. Suddenly Phyllis said to me, “Manda darlin’, just some advice: If you ever don’t have time to wax your eyebrows, shave em’ with the blade vertically not horizontally so you have more control of what you shave off.” I laughed so hard at this because I loved the ridiculous advice she had always given me.
It was around six because The Simpsons were on fox. I asked if she wanted to come in the other room to watch, but she said she felt dizzy and wanted to stay there. Again, I thought nothing of it. During the show I heard harsh whispering in the other room saying, “Oh my G-d, Oh my G-d.” What was happening? My heart was beating a mile a minute. I was paralyzed from the waist down. I couldn’t move to the other room. I yelled out loud to myself, “GET UP AMANDA, GET UP!” My legs wouldn’t move. I was afraid. Phyllis’s daughter, Tiffany was in the other room called the ambulance. “Nine-one-one” she repeated, “yes here is the address…again.” Angrily, She continually said the address maybe five times. Why weren’t they understanding what was going on? “GET UP,” I told myself again. I turned off The Simpsons. I was intently trying to listen in on what was going on in the other room. Phyllis was breathing very heavily now. She seemed as though she might have been unconscious. I wanted to go into the other room to see what was going on but I was paralyzed with fear to actually move. I was too scared to cry. I heard the garage door open, and in came my mother. Her bright blue eyes widened in fear as she looked into the living room at Phyllis. “Shit,” she said in a heart-breaking tone. She rushed me to my next door neighbor’s house to stay there so I wouldn’t have to witness what was going on. I sat in front of my neighbor’s window staring down at my street, waiting for the ambulance to come.
After what seemed like forever, the ambulance finally came. My next door neighbor’s father, who was a doctor, rushed to my house to see what he could do. An hour or so later, he came back in tears. I’ve never seen a full grown man so upset. He looked at me, and I suddenly turned away. I knew what was coming. I didn’t sleep well that night. I tossed, turned, and screamed a few times in my sleep, but I did not cry. I refused. She could not be dead. She was like my mother. She raised me. She was my everything.
Days turned into weeks; weeks turned into months; and months turned into years. I will never forget what a beautiful, caring woman, my Phyllis was. She taught me to be a strong person and always go on with life; no matter what obstacles were throne my way. Her death taught my to be strong in whatever I do. Dealing with loosing such a strong influence in my life was the hardest thing I could have gone through. I learned to push aside such petty things that seemed to not bother Phyllis, so why should it bother me? I learned to always help people, and be considerate in whatever I may do in life. I learned to make people smile, no matter how terrible their situation may be. Yes, if a butterfly with broken wings believes it will no longer fly again, it won’t. If it truly believes it will fly again, it will. Because of this experience, I learned to not dwell on the damages on my life, and repair them, and go on with my life. Now I look back on the situation, and realize not of what actually happened that night, but of all of the wonderful things she has had to give to me over the years. Just because she had to leave so suddenly, does not mean her beautiful thoughts and ideas will not last with me until the end of my life.