Breaking Through

My family and I have always been close. We shared the same passion. More like I inherited my parent's passion for figure skating. Aly and Jackson Ford have been at the top of their sports for years.  But all of that changed in their last competition.  My father hadn’t shown any signs of illness, but during their performance, he suddenly dropped my mother during a lift, falling to the ice with a loud thud and the crowd's shock gaps.  As soon as my mother sat up and looked toward my dad, she screamed in fear. He was all but clutching his chest, barely able to take a breath in. The paramedics rushed to him and an ambulance was called. He was rushed off the ice and brought to the hospital. And while all of this was going on, I sat on the coach's bench, teary-eyed, watching all of this unfold.  I was only fifteen. “Bexley. Oh, dear god! Come with me,” My parent's coach said, pulling my hand. In a dazed fixe, I followed her. I buckled in her car while she rambled on. I knew she was speaking, but my brain couldn’t register what she was telling me. As soon as we got to the hospital, my heart started thundering against my chest. My ears were ringing and my palms were sweating. My mother came into view. She seemed hysterical, pacing back and forth with a hand on her forehead. As soon as she saw me, her shoulders sank. She rushed to me and engulfed me in a tight embrace, sobbing in each other's arms. “Mrs. Ford?” Someone called. As we turned around, a doctor was coming out of the emergency doors. And we knew. We knew from the way he carried himself he didn't have good news for us. “I’m so sorry. Your husband didn’t make it. His heart gave out. We tried everything we could, but it wasn’t enough.” Our world was shattered in a few simple moments.