Shroud

The beginning.

I was born in Seattle, Washington. I was a perfectly healthy baby girl, in a small family of now 3. I never had any siblings, and my parents never really tried to have any more kids.

When I was around 4 we moved to Winnipeg, Manitoba in Canada. I learned a lot later that this was because of my fathers medical bills, as he had cancer. I don't know what type any more, or where it affected, all I know is it was severe.

I consider myself a good kid. I got good grades, always participated in extracurriculars, even when I didn't like a lot of them. My dad loved me, he was proud of me.
My mom, on the other hand.. she loved me, to an extent. But she never seemed proud of me. No matter what I did, no matter how many A+'s my schoolwork came home marked as, she always seemed dissapointed in me.
I was the thing that ruined her dreams. She had always wanted to be a succesful businesswoman, use that success to travel and go far in the world.
Obviously, that didn't work out. Then, I was also a reminder of what she was slowly losing. Her husband, my father. I was a spitting image of him if you looked from the right angle, down to even some of our interests. Even when she said she loved me, I always kind of new that she despised me from the simple look in her eyes.
It hurt like a knife was carving into me the day I realised.

..

Later on, things got really good for a bit. Ages 13-15 were wonderful. I had good friends, school was going great. I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, an oncologist studying cancer to help people like my dad.

A month after I turned 16, my dad died. He was in the hospital for about a week, in and out of sleep, barely knowing what was going on. On the last day, he suddenly got much better. Sitting up, talking, eating. I was scared, as I heard the doctors talking once about "that moment of clarity some people get before they die." I think it was called Terminal Lucidity.
My dad, unfortunately, had to get that moment of clarity and realise what was going on. I didn't tell my mom what was probably happening, she was too happy to see him upright. My cold, stone-faced mother, smiling and crying in joy. I couldn't ruin that for her.

He passed while we were all with him, at his bedside. The moment his heart stopped, and his breathing subsided, that moment is ingrained in my memory. Appearently somewhere along the line he signed a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order. 21/11/24, 18:50.