August 4, 2008 (Memoire)

It was a gorgeous summer morning. The skies were clear; I couldn’t see a single speck of cloud for miles. The sun beamed down with that slight scorch to my skin that made me never want to go back inside the house but at the same time, burned irritatingly when I stood still. There was a calm breeze that carried the faint scent of backyard barbecues everywhere I went. It was my favourite time of the year. The best part of it all was that there wasn’t any school to worry about. Nothing beat the feeling of waking up late in the morning knowing that the whole day was yours to enjoy. It was any school-kid’s dream.

Until I was around eight years old, my family and I lived in an apartment; a small two-bedroom home that sat on top of a Laundromat by the intersection of Victoria Park and St. Clair. The Laundromat was squeezed into the middle of a small shopping plaza that was comprised of a convenience store, a hairstylist shop, a dry cleaner’s, and a couple of restaurants. With a family of five – both parents, my brother, Al (he was a junior, so we called nicknamed him “Jun-Jun”), my sister, Allison, and I – the apartment always felt crowded.

In the summers, it always would be unbearably hot. My parents could only afford two air conditioners (one for each room) so my siblings and I would often be found in the room we shared with the AC on the highest setting, the television tuned into YTV, and laying down on our own beds trying our best to get the heat off our minds. We would each have our own “emergency ice packs”, as we called them, ready in the freezer if any of us thought that the heat was just too much to handle. Whenever we would leave the room to eat, use the bathroom or grab an ice pack, we would be careful not to let too much of the cool air out of the room by opening the door just wide enough to slip our bodies through and closing it shut quickly behind us and repeated the process whenever we would come back in. Both my parents would be at work during the day, so my grandmother would watch over my siblings and I (As grandchildren, we should’ve called her “Lola” meaning grandmother in Tagalog, but she didn’t want to feel as if she was getting old so we called her “Nanay”, which meant mother).

My siblings and I would beg our grandmother to bring us to a swimming pool, but there weren’t any near to where we lived and at her age, it would’ve been more of a chore to travel than something to enjoy. Every once in a while, my dad would have a day off from work and he would drive us down to Woodbine Beach where’d we swim in the D.D. Summerville pools. To us, being brought to the pools was a blessing. As soon as we stepped in to the building, the smell of chlorine filled the air and the sound of laughter and splashing water was never ending. For any desperate child in need of a relief from the heat, nothing would get them more excited. We ran straight for the change rooms, the sound and smell getting stronger with every step, changed into our swimsuits as fast as we could and jumped right into the rooftop pool. The feeling of the cool water during those days was breath taking, especially with the sun still scorching down from above. Unfortunately, we would only be able to drive down there a handful of times during the summer. For most of the summer, my siblings and I would stick to our regular routine inside our room.

When I was ten years old, my family moved into a new house; a three bedroom bungalow, which to me seemed gigantic after living in that apartment for all of my life. It saddened me a little bit knowing that I wouldn’t be able to call the apartment home anymore, but the new home was a lot nicer. I stepped through the sliding door of the guest room onto a square wooden patio that over looked the white quartz rock covered yard. On the borders of the red wooden fence were aisles of dirt in between lengths of wood, which made the backyard look lifeless when there weren’t any flowers planted. Past the white rocks were these dull large grey stone blocks which created a rectangular shape with an empty space in the centre and I could see the faint glimmer of water against the sides of the stones. Curious to see what was in between the blocks, I stepped down from the patio onto the rock covered ground, which hurt as I walked as many of the rocks were uneven. Painfully, I made my way to the stone blocks. As I stepped onto the blocks, my feet were relieved to be free from the torture of the uneven terrain. As I stood over the empty space, the familiar scent of chlorine filled the air.

It was great to finally swim during the summer without having to drive half an hour to get to a pool. We could finally swim in the comfort of our own home. The one setback of having your own pool is having to clean it up yourself, and having your neighbour’s tree hang over it doesn’t make it any easier. Netting the leaves out of the pool was troublesome, having to do it every day, but it was bearable. The absolute worst part of having the pool was the chlorine. The scent that once got me excited to jump in now had me feeling lightheaded and having to carry those heavy blue jugs they were in from the shed to the pool and back made my arms feel like they were going to fall off. Going out to buy the chlorine was even worse, as I always had to carry the jugs up the driveway, through the garage and into the shed on the other side of the patio. The pool that I once loved was starting to feel like a curse than a blessing. However, I did spend the majority of my summers in there. Buying the chlorine jugs became routine, but it was in the summer of 2008 that going to buy one changed my family’s lives drastically.

It was August 4th,2008; a beautiful Monday morning. The skies were clear, the sun was shining, the air smelt sweet; just how every summer day should be. I woke up with that same feeling, knowing I didn’t have school and excited to see what the day brings but at the same time, it pained a little knowing that in less than four weeks I would be back in class. Nonetheless, I was as excited for the summer as I was on the last day of school the month before. However, one obstacle stood in the way of this day being nothing short of great; our chlorine just ran out which meant we had to go pick up a new jug. I hated buying those things. I was always the one that had to carry them out of the car. To a ten year old, those jugs felt like they weighed a ton. I despised them but if they kept the pool working, then I wasn’t going to argue out of it. My family and I jumped into the car and went on our usual route to Cedarbrae Pools.

On our way, my mom got a phone call. It was her friend whose mother had been in the hospital for quite some time but she was in a recovery stage and she wanted us to come and visit her. We wanted to get there as soon as we could so we decided that we would head to the hospital first and then buy the chlorine afterwards. I was relieved, slightly, as I didn’t have to break my back carrying that thing for another couple hours or so. We changed our route and we were on our way to the hospital.

We pulled into the parking lot of the hospital which was in the centre of the semi-circle building. A large glass platform on top of seven columns hung over the main entrance. On the inside, the floor was made up of large grey and white square tiles. Above us was an all-glass ceiling that let the sunlight shine through onto these artistic wooden pillars that extended like branches all over the gigantic space of a lobby, connecting and curving, until finally reaching the floor, making the hospital itself look like a tree. The air smelt of rubbing alcohol and the detergent the nurses washed their scrubs with. The smells reminded me of needles, any child’s worst fear. On the blank white wall behind the front desk were dark red letters that read, “Credit Valley Hospital.”

My mom’s friend met with us in the lobby. She was a middle aged Filipino woman with a lightly tanned complexion and shoulder length hair that curled in slightly. She wasn’t tall, just above 5 feet. Her name was Edna. She led us to where her mother was staying. Along the way, she brought us through a long hallway with all-glass walls that looked out onto a beautiful quad that had trees on every corner and two rows of different types of flowers in between. In the centre of the field was another tree and beside it was a stone bench where a man sat along with an elderly woman - presumably his mother -were carrying out a conversation. We walked into the first floor room where Edna’s mother was staying. The room wasn’t too small, but wasn’t big enough to have more than six visitors before it became cramped. To the left of the door was a closet where a green hooded sweater hung from. Past the closet, the room seemed to expand. When standing in the centre of the room, facing the huge wall-to-wall windows, the hospital bed was placed against the middle of the left wall. Above it was a painting of a sailboat. On the wall behind me was a counter, a sink and a dish rack with a couple of clean white plates and mugs. To my right was a large washroom with hand rails along all sides of it, for those who needed assistance walking, which led to the toilet and sink. Her mother was in the bed when we walked in and let out a quiet shriek of joy once she saw us. She was in a blanket but I could tell she was short, a little shorter than her daughter. She had light brown skin and her hair was cut short and curled, just enough to cover the tops of her ears. Jun-Jun and I didn’t know her too well so we were excused from the room and left to explore the massive hospital floor.

Jun-Jun and I went back to the lobby and we hid behind the intricate wooden statues, chasing each other around them. I walked up the massive stairs with glass barriers guiding along the sides and from the second floor, the lobby looked even bigger. My brother was still in the lobby and from where I was looking he looked tiny. The wooden pillars casted artistic shadows on the floor with many different curves and angles making look as if the shadows were a painting on the giant canvas that was the tiled floor.

An hour or so passed when my mother called to me and said we were heading home. My brother and I walked back towards the room and said our goodbyes, exchanged smiles and left.

We all jumped back into the car and we drove back onto the road towards Cedarbrae Pools. We drove towards the intersection of Eglinton Avenue West and Credit Valley. I was in the seat behind the driver’s, my mom in the passenger seat, Allison beside me and Jun-Jun behind me. No one was talking, the radio playing quietly throughout the car, just enjoying the silence. I was looking down at my lap. I could see that my knees were scraped from a couple days before when I slipped while playing basketball. The silence was calming, and I soon found myself dozing off. My eyes were becoming too heavy to keep open. The soft sounds of the radio along with the gentle bump of the car travelling across the road were slowly putting me to sleep. I had heard that the rocking of the car was similar to the slow movements of being held as a baby and that’s why we find ourselves napping during car rides. Back then, the world seemed so innocent and –

An ear-piercing scream. A loud crashing noise. That second, everything went black.

“What happened?” I thought to myself.

I shook away from the darkness of my mind and saw I was still looking down at my lap.

“I must’ve fallen asleep.” I concluded.

I saw the scrapes on my knees and smirked at the thought of myself slipping and falling. The smirk turned into a snicker. It hurt. ... It hurts. ... It hurts! My laugh couldn’t escape.

“Why can’t I breathe?!” I yelled.

No one heard me. Everything I said was a less than a mere whisper.

Scared I thought, “What’s wrong with me?”

In the corner of my eye I saw something glimmering. At first I thought it was the rosary hanging from the rear-view mirror but I that noticed whatever was glimmering was on my lap. I looked down and saw it was a piece of glass. Confused, I stared at it.

“Why is this here?” I asked myself.

Then I realized. My heart dropped. I looked up.

The windshield was shattered. The front end of our car was completely destroyed, exposing what used to be the engine. The left side view mirror had disappeared and the right was hanging on by the wires. In front of me, I saw two blue plastic bags. The bags filled the entire front seats section of the car. I could see my mom and she looked back at me, her face pressed against one of the bags. The fear in her eyes was enough to make me break into tears. Then I noticed something floating around in the air. It was a fine white mist. Whatever it was, I know it couldn’t be safe for any of us to breathe in. I kicked my dad’s seat.

“Get out of the car!” he shouted, looking back at all of us.

I quickly unlocked my sister’s seatbelt and my own before quickly glancing back at my brother to see if he was alright. He was scared too but he unlocked his and stood up. I slid open the door of the car and my sister opened her side. I dropped to my knees. I still couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t breathe!” I managed to squeeze out and yelp.

My dad came up from behind me and pushed on my stomach with all his force. The attempted Heimlich manoeuvre was kind, but wasn’t helping. If anything, it made my head feel as if it were going to pop. Suddenly, I caught a breath. Desperate for another, I sucked in as fast as I could. Then came another but this time I felt more air. Slowly, I began to restore my breathing.

My family sat on the road island beside our mangled car. Mentally, we were as broken as the windshield. We couldn’t come to terms with what just happened. We’ve seen it plenty of times on TV before, but never believed we would be in a car accident ourselves.

My mom and dad stood up and told us we needed to get to the sidewalk, but my siblings and I were so shocked we didn’t move a muscle. To me, everything was still quiet. I could still faintly hear the song the radio was playing just a minute ago. Then I heard a horn. Then another, and another, each one becoming louder and more frequent.

“Get them off the road!” A man shouted from his car.

“They need help!” A woman screamed.

“I don’t have time for this,” Another man yelled frustrated, “Get them out of the way!”

I looked up and I saw a young man run across the street, against the traffic towards us. He talked to my dad and then turned to me.

“I’m going to bring you over to the sidewalk, okay?” He calmly offered.

I nodded hesitantly and he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. That’s when I realized one of my shoes was missing. Without thinking, I asked him if I could grab it from in the car but then realized what had just happened. Everything was so sudden. I looked back and saw two other men carrying my brother and my sister following behind us. I looked forward and saw more glass.

The shards made a distorted trail towards the sidewalk.

“Strange.” I thought, “Why are there broken shards there?”

I looked up and saw another car on the sidewalk beside a broken yield sign. The car must’ve spun from the impact because the headlights were facing the opposite direction from where they came. Inside, I could see the figures of two men. From the driver’s seat, I saw movement but I didn’t see any response from the passenger.

With a stretcher rolling alongside them, paramedics ran up to the right side of the car and pulled the passenger out. Down his arm, I could see streaks of red.

The men placed my siblings and I on the sidewalk. We all stood for a couple minutes but our legs didn’t want to hold up so we all sat back on the edge of the street.

I was tired. I wanted to sleep. My eyes felt heavy. My dad must’ve seen I was dozing off because he shook me and told me not to fall asleep. I wondered why he didn’t want me to.

Luckily, a towing truck was nearby when the accident occurred and the driver witnessed what happened. He offered to move our car for free.

My dad was on the phone with my uncle and was telling him what happened. From what I heard, we were driving through the intersection when the car from the left ran the red light and cut in front of us. We drove into his passenger side. That’s when everything went black.

My uncle arrived and offered to take us home with him after the paramedics gave him the approval. My siblings and I left with him as my parents were sorting out what happened to the police.

At my uncle’s house, my aunt fed us dinner and asked us a handful of questions. None of us could really remember what happened. She took us to the basement where my cousin, James, was playing on his Xbox, excited to see us.

After a couple hours, my parents came to pick us up. They were in a grey Nissan sedan. There were Enterprise stickers on the windshield and on the rear bumper, signifying it was a rental car.

“Too bad.” I thought, “This is a nice car.”

Slowly, but safely, we drove home.

A couple of weeks later, I came home after a spending the day with my younger cousin Jhezza. When I arrived at the house, there were two men dressed in suits talking to my parents inside the living room. My parents pulled my aside and told me to stay downstairs while they talked and so I did.

After an hour, the two men left and I came back upstairs. My mom told me that Allison, my dad and herself needed to go through therapy, because they sustained back injuries. She also told me that my father, who worked at Atlas Cold Storage, wouldn’t be able to work at his job anymore because it required him to do heavy lifting. She concluded our conversation by telling me that my father most likely wouldn’t be able to find a new job so she’d be the only one working while my father received compensation cheques.

For the next four years, my family wasn’t able to do a lot of the things that we used to enjoy. Going on long road trips weren’t allowed anymore because they were advised that sitting in the car for long periods of time wasn’t good for their backs. It saddened us because we enjoyed driving down to the USA during the summer. My brother and I were left to do most of the chores around the house as many were too difficult for Allison and my parents.

Presently, my family is cleared from their injuries. We are able to do many of the activities we enjoyed all those years ago. However, my father is not working and it proves to be an obstacle for my family. From this experience, we’ve learned to appreciate each other more because we know how sudden life can change in front of your eyes. The summer of 2008 is definitely a time I will never forget.