introduction - a day to remember

a day to remember is, in fact, an understatement, for a day such as this should not be considered merely a day to remember, but a day to dread.

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The first indication of what I dreaded to be true was her offset manner— the constant clutching of her chest and her stomach as if she were hoping to force the air in and out of her lungs, the unusual slouching and hanging of her usually upright head, and irregular movement of her abdomen were all contributing to my slowly blooming apprehension, if you can even call it apprehension. You certainly could have called it fear, or even gone as far as to classify it as terror. The knowledge that something was "wrong" was a simple fact, even more so the fact that my eldest daughter could potentially be "sick" during what was supposed to be a dinner in her honor. I know for a fact that she had been looking forward to this event for quite a while now, and to be sick would ruin virtually everything. I suppose that this may have been the sole reason for my silence; otherwise, I may have said something. The thought that I could have said something to prevent the tragedy from occurring in front of all of us still haunts me to this day, although I know nothing could have prevented— or even foresaw— something as melancholy as the condition in which my daughter had been forced into on that day and for many days to come.

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