My true story…
My dad laughed as we drove to the hospital.
“Dad, you’re a real life version of ‘A Series of Unfortunate Events.’ Its so strange,” I said, but he didn’t even care anymore.
“You should make me a website where I can sell hexes,” he joked.
He had long forgotten that my brothers car had been stolen in Detroit early last year. He had tried to put the plane crash behind him, convincing himself daily that the two deaths weren’t his fault. He had not been the pilot, just a partner. When my mom was rear-ended by a transfer semi only a month ago, he had called me with a calm tone to his voice, as though seeing her go to the hospital on a stretcher was just another day in the garden, just another fractured neck.
And now, as the long weekend came to a close, with no water because of frozen pipes, he slipped and fell in the driveway. My husband hadn’t expected how my dad would react when he found him laying on the hard ground, eating snow.
“What should I do?” he asked, looking at him with grave concern, expecting that by now, he’d be at his utmost breaking point.
“Go up to my room,” he breathed, a straight look on his face. He was still sprawled on the ground, grasping his ankle, “And go under the bed. You’ll find my gun there, with two loaded clips. Shoot me.” He laughed then, and my husband couldn’t help but laugh also.
My dad was a warrior, a stronger man then my mom made out. I rushed to the car as my husband pulled from the drive on his way to the hospital, my dad happily bundled in the front seat.
“I guess the year really isn’t over dad,” I chuckled. Just yesterday he’d wondered what more could possibly happen this year. You would think it was over, especially as water flooded the bathroom earlier today. Enough bad luck for one family, but now a broken ankle had been added to the list.
“Put it this way, you’ve gotten a life’s worth of bad luck out in one year. Now the rest have to be good.” My husband hit him playfully on the shoulder.
My dad choked on a laugh. “There’s still nine days left,” he said sceptically.
We dropped my dad off, my mom already waiting by the entrance. On the way home my car acts up, and I figure, shit happens…
This was a true story, this was my family, this year. I only hope things get better, but like my dad said, there is still nine days…
My mom is fine by the way, just a brace, and a painful chest. The plane crash was horrible, pilot error. But as I’ve learned, the best you can do is smile at life, when things happen, you can’t reverse it, so you may as well move forward and work to solve the problems.
So, does anyone want to buy some bad luck?