I had to write a personal piece for English and my teacher chose the topic of my one regret for me to do....so voila!
I always say that you should never regret anything you do in your life, yet it seems that the one person who should have listened to that but didn’t…is me.
I have only one regret. That’s it, just one. The only problem is that this regret causes me such unimaginable pain that I honestly don’t think I will ever learn to accept what has happened, what I did or didn’t do, and move on with my life.
My best friend died four days after my fourteenth birthday in 2001. It was a completely unexpected event that changed the dynamics of my social circle and the way I saw life forever. I cannot go past the Bunnings Warehouse where it happened without closing my eyes. I don’t ever want to deal with losing her. I close my eyes and imagine it as I drive past - I see the crossing lights blinking, her chatting to her Dad, giggling as usual. Then I see her walk out onto the road and time slows down…the buzzing of the lights blurs into a twisted and taunting whine, her face as she sees the car, a picture of sheer terror, and her father, lunging when nothing can be done. I hear her last breath; I hear the pounding of her heart, I see her eyes blink their last blink before time speeds up again and the car throws her into the air…
I heard the phone ring and didn’t move to answer it, I was in the middle of playing a game, that’s much more important than answering the phone, besides, Mum was right near it, she could go get it – so I played on. I immediately knew it was bad when Mum rushed into her room and closed the door.
Someone was dead.
Someone was dead. ‘There was an accident,’ was the only thing echoing through my head, ‘an accident, no pain, in theatre and lots of blood.’
I can tell you now; I have a completely accurate and clear recollection of that night. I was brought over to the couch, expecting to here about Gran or Granda passing away, I was nervous. I was shocked to hear her name instead of my Grandparents’. I was even more shocked to hear that she might not make it…I fell into an emotional hole and died.
I can still tell you where I was sitting on the couch, what I was wearing, which lamp was on, I can even tell you what part of ‘Uncle Buck’ was on the television at the time and what time Dad came home from work, only to find me on the couch; my face a picture of utter despair at the thought of my dying friend – this sort of thing only happens in the movies.
It was five past eight at night when the phone rang again, John Candy was putting a shovel into a car’s trunk on the television and I could her my little brother and sister fighting over who was going to get to the phone first – Mum won.
She again went into her room and shut the door. My sister wanted a drink, and because Dad and I both said no, she went to Mum’s room to ask her. I can still see the silhouette of her bedroom door opening against the grey of the carpet, the light from her room shone a beautiful gold shadow onto it. My sister's curious face was wondering why mum was crying, I knew why she was crying though.
She didn’t have to say it; her crying face, shake of the head and shrug of the shoulders relayed enough information for me to know without being told…as a result of severe trauma, massive blood loss and swelling of her brain, my best friend, who was only fourteen, had lost her life.
I went mental. I fell onto the floor and wept, and I didn’t stop. I was put into Mum’s room to sit and cry it out, I sat on her bed, rocking back and forth, holding myself in my arms – I had lost control.
I eventually tired myself out and stopped crying, I kept trying to tell myself that I was okay, embrace what had happened, accept what had happened, but it was no use – I began to cry again.
Mum and Dad came into their room to find me rocking on their bed, staring into nothing and Mum tried to help. She suggested I go and get my pajamas on, I agreed.
Looking back on it now, my actions will seem like the acts of a person with a deranged mind, but to be honest I find them funny; I went to get my pajamas, found them in the washing machine and tried to put them on…wet.
Mum stopped me after I was walking down the house to get back to her room and realized that I was wearing the pajamas she knew were wet, this is when she started to worry.
I was put into Mum and Dad’s room again to sit and cry it out, but nothing more would come out, just horrible cries and howls, my eyes were too tired to cry anymore, so I started screaming.
The family doctor made a special visit to the house to see me; he was carrying his case full of wonder-drugs, and a needle for me. I was sedated and put into my bed – that’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the morning, imagining I’d had a really bad dream…it wasn’t a bad dream though, but God I wish it was.
I found Mum sitting up in bed; she’d been crying and I began to cry again – I knew it was real. A paper was sitting on the bed, the Herald Sun, 30th of September 2001, on page four; a tiny little article detailed the tragedy that had befallen my best friend…
A TEENAGE girl was killed during a spate of accidents yesterday in which seven pedestrians were struck by vehicles in as many hours. The girl, 14, was taken to the Royal Children's Hospital in a critical condition after being struck by a car about 3.20pm, but died last night.
Ambulance spokesman Paul Holman said the girl, who was from Mordialloc, was struck by a south-bound car as she crossed the road at the corner of Nepean Highway and Oak Ave, Cheltenham.
The paper had summed up my friends life; and death, in just a few lines. I looked up at Mum, I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing was real. Mum was crying and just muttered a woeful ‘I know.’
Now the biggest task we had on our hands was informing everyone else of what had happened, and when the funeral would be. I called my other friends, we cried on the phone and talked about wanting her back but no matter how hard we cried, it was obvious nothing we did would bring her back…it was the one time in my life that I swore I would give anything to trade places with her.
All of the mothers in our group decided that it would be a good idea to meet at someone’s house, Mum and I decided that our house was the best option; it was in the middle of everyone so it may as well have been ours. We called our Form teacher from school and invited her around for coffee and biscuits along with all the girls.
We’d all just sat down when we heard the car pull up in the drive-way. We hadn’t cried in person with each other yet, but when her mum stepped out we all burst into a collective ocean of tears.
Her Mum opened the door and stepped in, and there was silence. Sitting there we saw her now as a grief-stricken woman, not as a Mum, because she didn’t have her daughter anymore…she wasn’t a mum anymore.
As she spoke of her daughter her eyes drifted off into space, then she suddenly returned to us all in the living room, and she cried. We all sat there, unable to say anything, but what do you say? Sorry for your loss? Hope you get over it quickly? It doesn’t work like that, you want so badly to say something but whenever you think of something it always sounds bad no matter what happens.
The hardest part of the afternoon came when we discussed whether or not it would be a good idea for us all to go and see her at the funeral home, to pay our last respects and face what had happened.
We all agreed that we should go, so we made the arrangements, we’d each go in for half an hour, just talk to her, tell her how much we cared for her, how she’d always be there in our hearts with us along the way.
My friends mum was upset by the thought of her daughter going in to see my best friend in the funeral home because when her sister died she went to see her in the funeral home and now whenever she thinks of her sister all she sees is the dead person lying in a casket.
I didn’t want to think of my best friend like that, I didn’t want to see her with her beautiful blonde hair shaved in parts because of surgery, I didn’t want to see her lying there, cold…dead. I wanted to say goodbye though.
Eventually the Tuesday we’d planned to go came around, and I got a phone call from one of my friends, asking if I’d like to the funeral home…everything that had happened over the last week instantly replayed in my mind, all of it, the accident itself, the feelings and emotions, the meetings, the funeral, and the last thing I thought of was my friends mum, always seeing her sister in the casket…
She asked me if I still wanted to go, she could take me, and bring me home again, but even though I felt so strongly about my best friend I couldn’t do it.
‘Nah, its okay, you go, I can’t say good-bye to Alice right now.’ I knew from the moment I said it, I’d regret it…
Jenna H 12C
I always say that you should never regret anything you do in your life, yet it seems that the one person who should have listened to that but didn’t…is me.
I have only one regret. That’s it, just one. The only problem is that this regret causes me such unimaginable pain that I honestly don’t think I will ever learn to accept what has happened, what I did or didn’t do, and move on with my life.
My best friend died four days after my fourteenth birthday in 2001. It was a completely unexpected event that changed the dynamics of my social circle and the way I saw life forever. I cannot go past the Bunnings Warehouse where it happened without closing my eyes. I don’t ever want to deal with losing her. I close my eyes and imagine it as I drive past - I see the crossing lights blinking, her chatting to her Dad, giggling as usual. Then I see her walk out onto the road and time slows down…the buzzing of the lights blurs into a twisted and taunting whine, her face as she sees the car, a picture of sheer terror, and her father, lunging when nothing can be done. I hear her last breath; I hear the pounding of her heart, I see her eyes blink their last blink before time speeds up again and the car throws her into the air…
I heard the phone ring and didn’t move to answer it, I was in the middle of playing a game, that’s much more important than answering the phone, besides, Mum was right near it, she could go get it – so I played on. I immediately knew it was bad when Mum rushed into her room and closed the door.
Someone was dead.
Someone was dead. ‘There was an accident,’ was the only thing echoing through my head, ‘an accident, no pain, in theatre and lots of blood.’
I can tell you now; I have a completely accurate and clear recollection of that night. I was brought over to the couch, expecting to here about Gran or Granda passing away, I was nervous. I was shocked to hear her name instead of my Grandparents’. I was even more shocked to hear that she might not make it…I fell into an emotional hole and died.
I can still tell you where I was sitting on the couch, what I was wearing, which lamp was on, I can even tell you what part of ‘Uncle Buck’ was on the television at the time and what time Dad came home from work, only to find me on the couch; my face a picture of utter despair at the thought of my dying friend – this sort of thing only happens in the movies.
It was five past eight at night when the phone rang again, John Candy was putting a shovel into a car’s trunk on the television and I could her my little brother and sister fighting over who was going to get to the phone first – Mum won.
She again went into her room and shut the door. My sister wanted a drink, and because Dad and I both said no, she went to Mum’s room to ask her. I can still see the silhouette of her bedroom door opening against the grey of the carpet, the light from her room shone a beautiful gold shadow onto it. My sister's curious face was wondering why mum was crying, I knew why she was crying though.
She didn’t have to say it; her crying face, shake of the head and shrug of the shoulders relayed enough information for me to know without being told…as a result of severe trauma, massive blood loss and swelling of her brain, my best friend, who was only fourteen, had lost her life.
I went mental. I fell onto the floor and wept, and I didn’t stop. I was put into Mum’s room to sit and cry it out, I sat on her bed, rocking back and forth, holding myself in my arms – I had lost control.
I eventually tired myself out and stopped crying, I kept trying to tell myself that I was okay, embrace what had happened, accept what had happened, but it was no use – I began to cry again.
Mum and Dad came into their room to find me rocking on their bed, staring into nothing and Mum tried to help. She suggested I go and get my pajamas on, I agreed.
Looking back on it now, my actions will seem like the acts of a person with a deranged mind, but to be honest I find them funny; I went to get my pajamas, found them in the washing machine and tried to put them on…wet.
Mum stopped me after I was walking down the house to get back to her room and realized that I was wearing the pajamas she knew were wet, this is when she started to worry.
I was put into Mum and Dad’s room again to sit and cry it out, but nothing more would come out, just horrible cries and howls, my eyes were too tired to cry anymore, so I started screaming.
The family doctor made a special visit to the house to see me; he was carrying his case full of wonder-drugs, and a needle for me. I was sedated and put into my bed – that’s the last thing I remember before waking up in the morning, imagining I’d had a really bad dream…it wasn’t a bad dream though, but God I wish it was.
I found Mum sitting up in bed; she’d been crying and I began to cry again – I knew it was real. A paper was sitting on the bed, the Herald Sun, 30th of September 2001, on page four; a tiny little article detailed the tragedy that had befallen my best friend…
A TEENAGE girl was killed during a spate of accidents yesterday in which seven pedestrians were struck by vehicles in as many hours. The girl, 14, was taken to the Royal Children's Hospital in a critical condition after being struck by a car about 3.20pm, but died last night.
Ambulance spokesman Paul Holman said the girl, who was from Mordialloc, was struck by a south-bound car as she crossed the road at the corner of Nepean Highway and Oak Ave, Cheltenham.
The paper had summed up my friends life; and death, in just a few lines. I looked up at Mum, I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing was real. Mum was crying and just muttered a woeful ‘I know.’
Now the biggest task we had on our hands was informing everyone else of what had happened, and when the funeral would be. I called my other friends, we cried on the phone and talked about wanting her back but no matter how hard we cried, it was obvious nothing we did would bring her back…it was the one time in my life that I swore I would give anything to trade places with her.
All of the mothers in our group decided that it would be a good idea to meet at someone’s house, Mum and I decided that our house was the best option; it was in the middle of everyone so it may as well have been ours. We called our Form teacher from school and invited her around for coffee and biscuits along with all the girls.
We’d all just sat down when we heard the car pull up in the drive-way. We hadn’t cried in person with each other yet, but when her mum stepped out we all burst into a collective ocean of tears.
Her Mum opened the door and stepped in, and there was silence. Sitting there we saw her now as a grief-stricken woman, not as a Mum, because she didn’t have her daughter anymore…she wasn’t a mum anymore.
As she spoke of her daughter her eyes drifted off into space, then she suddenly returned to us all in the living room, and she cried. We all sat there, unable to say anything, but what do you say? Sorry for your loss? Hope you get over it quickly? It doesn’t work like that, you want so badly to say something but whenever you think of something it always sounds bad no matter what happens.
The hardest part of the afternoon came when we discussed whether or not it would be a good idea for us all to go and see her at the funeral home, to pay our last respects and face what had happened.
We all agreed that we should go, so we made the arrangements, we’d each go in for half an hour, just talk to her, tell her how much we cared for her, how she’d always be there in our hearts with us along the way.
My friends mum was upset by the thought of her daughter going in to see my best friend in the funeral home because when her sister died she went to see her in the funeral home and now whenever she thinks of her sister all she sees is the dead person lying in a casket.
I didn’t want to think of my best friend like that, I didn’t want to see her with her beautiful blonde hair shaved in parts because of surgery, I didn’t want to see her lying there, cold…dead. I wanted to say goodbye though.
Eventually the Tuesday we’d planned to go came around, and I got a phone call from one of my friends, asking if I’d like to the funeral home…everything that had happened over the last week instantly replayed in my mind, all of it, the accident itself, the feelings and emotions, the meetings, the funeral, and the last thing I thought of was my friends mum, always seeing her sister in the casket…
She asked me if I still wanted to go, she could take me, and bring me home again, but even though I felt so strongly about my best friend I couldn’t do it.
‘Nah, its okay, you go, I can’t say good-bye to Alice right now.’ I knew from the moment I said it, I’d regret it…
Jenna H 12C
