cierah

What was the saddest day of your entire life to date?

Painted

When I got out of prison.

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I came across a nice rack at the department store

la petite moi

There've been a few pretty bad days. Most recently, yesterday. Got in a huge fight (?) with nwlinkvxd and he's still unhappy about it. Basically got bitch-slapped because of how shitty I've been acting in our relationship.

Konichiwaneko

when I broke down in my school cafeteria because my cat died. I had to go home

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Willravel

Third worst day: Best friend was hit in a gang related shooting right in front of me. He had absolutely no connection to the gangs and was shot once in the stomach, and again in the side of the head. He died on the way to the hospital, as I was following in my car. The suspects were released on a technicality.

Second worst day: Grandfather (mother's father) first starts showing serious signs of Alzheimer's. I must have been maybe 10, and my favorite person in the world, my mentor and friend, had trouble remembering who I was. After 10 years of conversations about philosophy, religion, science, and history, it was like watching as his mind was replaced by nothingness and confusion.

Worst day of my life: I was born with a severe coarctation of my aorta. I had heart surgery at 5 and was never able to do strenuous exercise because of it (no sports, no military career). Before I got married (the best day of my life), I went in to get tested, and found out that my children had an 8% chance of being born with a similar defect. Ever since I can remember I have wanted to be a father, and I found out that there is a frightening chance that my children's lives would be put in danger by my bad genetics.

Thankfully, my daughter was born as perfect as any person ever was. I still worry about my future children though.

ryborg

I met this one kid in 6th grade and we just totally hit it off. We were amazingly compatable friends, but he didn't stay here long. I only got to enjoy his company for about six months before he moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Back then I didn't have any friends in my classes except him so I felt alone and depressed. I actaully felt so bad I failed a math test because I just couldn't concentrate on it. Turns out my teacher could tell I was having a rough time so she didn't add that test to my grade. Just goes to show you that your teachers can be cool sometimes.

The other time I became really depressed was when I tried to ask a girl out that I had had a crush on for ages. We flirted all the time, but I guess she didn't think dating me would be that great . The thing is she would always say she wanted do something with me, but she never did...there was always some sort of excuse. Well when I finally realized she was just avoiding me it hit me like a ton of bricks dropped from a low flying airplane. I'm still recovering from that one.

IC3

Two friends being taken by a drunk driver.

I have said it in another thread and i will say it in this one, Don't drink & drive it's not worth it. I use to be the type that thought "That can't happen to me or this won't happen etc" I never thought i would lose a friend, Nevermind two friends.

You know when you hear people that win the lottery and they can't believe it..Well, when i got that phone call at home..I couldn't believe it, It took a full day for what really happened to hit me.

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"To win any battle, you must fight as if you were already dead" -Musashi

maleficent

The death of my best friend of more than 30 years on 9/11, when I was 8000 miles away and unable to get home immediately (not that I could have done anything...but...) There's not a day that goes by that I don't find myself missing my friend, wanting to pick up the phone just to hear his voice (and I'm not a chatter) Thru the good things and bad things in my life -- he was the only person in my life that was there no matter what ... it was a once in a lifetime friendship.

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Squishor

How about you, cierah? Would you like to contribute?

Averett

Yeah, it's bad form to start a thread asking us of something, and for you not to share.

My saddest day? When my Grandfather died. He had been sick for quite awhile, in and out of the hospital. I was in Canada visiting my boyfriend and of course my cell phone was nearly dead. So I had it off most of the weekend, turning it on every so often to check messages. Well, my phone sometimes takes awhile to register that it has messages.

Anyway, Sunday afternoon when I was headed home I had my phone on and I had 6 new messages. Which I knew was not a good sign. So I pulled onto a side street to listen. First was my parents saying they were headed to Florida cause Grandpa wasn't doing so well. Then messages saying he had a blood transfusion and was doing much better. Then the frantic messages trying to get a hold of me. Then the message saying he had died.

I was a wreck. I drove back to my boyfriends crying the whole way. I felt so guilty that I didn't get the messages. I felt even more guilty that I didn't call my grandpa in the hospital when I had the chance. I still do. I'm just glad my Dad was with my grandpa when he passed. Fuck, I'm gonna start to cry right here at work. My Grandpa told my dad that he loves all us kids, asked how we were and all of that. I just wish I could have talked to him one last time. The last I saw him was at a diner when my grandparents visited in July. I gave him a hug and a kiss and told him I loved him. So I have that.

It's still weird that he's gone. Every so often I'll catch myself asking if Grandma and Grandpa are coming for dinner. It doesn't seem real that he's gone. I visited his grave a few weeks back, and his gravestone isn't marked with his date of death yet. It's too cold to mark it.

Alright, that's enough of that. Sorry I went on so long.

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Absence is to love what wind is to fire. It extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.

squirrelyburt

Having to put my dog to sleep. Been many years and got new dogs, but still quite never get over it.

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If you've ever felt there was a reason to be afraid of the dark, you were right.

Glory's Sun

I've had more sad days than one person should be allowed to endure.

I've had 4 friends die (seperate times) I guess the hardest one was the one where I basically watched him die in my arms.. still gets to me and this was over 10 years ago.

cierah

My saddest day?
I was thinking about this and that is why I posted the question. I don't think I have ever been really sad. I've never had a really sad day. I have those days when you are like 'shite this day sucks'. I've had days I've cried for most of my waking hours. But crying doesn't always equal sad. I've have really fucking horrible days.
One of the worst days of my life.....
That is all.

themisfit

I have two that rank pretty equally, the first is when my grandfather passed away.

The second is when my husband's best friend and partner was killed in the line of duty....

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At length my cry was known:
Therein lay my release.
I met the wolf alone
And was devoured in peace.

ESVM

veruca

yes..I have 2 as well...
The day my beloved boston terrier died in my arms
and the day the love of my life got shipped out to another base

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How you turned my world, you precious thing
You starve and near exhaust me
Everything I've done, I've done for you
I move the stars for no one

hambone

I would say the day my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and was told she would need a mastectomy. She has gone through so much in her life, and when we got that news, it even made my dad cry, and he never, ever cries.

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"Like liquid white from fallen glass,
Nothing to cry over"

f6twister

By far it has to be the day my dad died. He spent four months in the hospital at the beginning of 2003 with brain swelling, which caused a huge seizure, which put him in the ICU with a trache tube and a feeding tube. He started to recover and was transfered to a rehab center to get his strength back. The day after he got to the rehab center, his intestines burst and he nearly died (the doctors aren't sure how he lived). He recovered from that, built his strength back up and made it to my wedding. Two weeks later he was diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer. He died two and half months later after going through chemo and having 3 strokes which left him unable to walk, talk or use his hands. I still haven't figured out what to think of 2003. How do you rank all the stuff that happened to my dad, getting married, and finding out I'm going to be a father, but having my dad die before being a grandfather?

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A little rudeness and disrespect can elevate a meaningless interaction to a battle of wills and add drama to an otherwise dull day. Calvin

Pip

End of the summer of 2000, meeting up with a bunch of friends for bowling and dinner. Before we each split up to go home we hang around on the sidewalk talking. One guy asks me: "Are you going to the funeral?" Me: "What funeral?". Turns out a mutual friend of ours had jumped off a bridge about a week earlier.

joemc91

It's wierd the way my mind works. What may be extremely sad is merely shocking to me but does not make me sad. I've read all the posts about family dying and can't ever say I've been sad at the funerals. This is because it was their time. For instance my grandfather died on my birthday. I loved the guy but he was old and in bad shape for a while, so it didn't effect me so much. During my freshman year of college I recieved a call from a friend from high school saying that a mutual friend had committed suicide the weekend before. That sucked. Last year when I found out that a good friend in college had a seizure while flying a jet and was subsequently diagnosed with a brain tumor. That was one of the sadder days, mostly because I watched his dream of being an airline pilot disappear only one month from graduation. Things like these however I can't change, so I don't get sad over them. I may be dissappointed, but being sad about it won't change anything. I sorta feel like an asshole for thinking this way though.

pattycakes

Sitting in the hospital room of my 86 year old grand father who had fallen and hit his head and had internal bleeding. my family decided not to get the emergency brain surgery that he would need to survive because he knew and we all knew his time was coming.

So there lay my hero... the one man who i spent every summer with, who i always fished with, who i watched get shocked by his difibulator after he shot a deer.two strong surges of eletric through his body, and within 5 minutes he was walking twards his deer.

when i got to the hospital with my grandmother and my aunt, my grand mother took his hand and his whole body shook, like as if he knew we were there, and wanted to let us know.

chickentribs

It is surprising how difficult it is for me to put something this personal out...

My family didn't have the money, education, or inclination to help me get to college after high school. I took it very personally and left home and cut them out of my life - no contact.

I used scholarships, worked full time, and went to school when I could afford tuition. Six years later I picked up my first degree filled with ego and pride that I did it on my own, screw the world. I sat in my car looking at the diploma and realized that there wasn't one person in the world I could call to tell about my degree who would really care. I cried for about a half hour and called my mom to apologize.

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Oft expectation fails...
and most oft there Where most it promises
- Shakespeare, W.

Demeter

Its more than one day for me, an agonizing three days...from the day my man had a stroke to the third day when complications rendered him brain dead. Pure hell.

raveneye

On my big brother's 41st birthday he and his wife were driving to my parents' house to celebrate. It was a snowy day. My little brother and my sister were there waiting for them, with mom and dad. Called them on the phone, told a few jokes, "we're on our way, save some of that champagne for us . . . "

They were a couple hours late coming, then the phone rang, mom picked it up, and a cop was on the line. Two people were dead on a snowy road, hit broadside by a truck. Do you know these names?

It was my brother and his wife, killed in a car accident on his birthday. No words can describe how horrific and devastating that was to all of us. Then and still.

Grasshopper Green

It has to be the day my brother died. He was schizophrenic and lived with me and my husband. He'd been acting really weird, to the point of scaring me and hubby, for about a week. He went to the store, came back, and asked me if I had any tylenol. I told him where the bottle of ibuprofen was, he went into the bathroom for awhile, and then came out and lay down in the front room with me and my son. He soon started snoring and after awhile, went quiet. I thought he was in a deep sleep. It was only when I went into the bathroom and found all the pill bottles that I realized why he'd been snoring, but by then he was dead and there was nothing I could do. I think the worst part was the calls I had to make after the police got there.

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"They say that patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings; steal a little and they throw you in jail, steal a lot and they make you king"

Formerly Medusa

whtnoise

i'm on the first of two lucky cigarettes here, the last (possibly) of 8 or so drinks this evening, jack and coke - two cubes of ice, three parts jack to one part coke, lovely.

there are, far too many sad days for many of us. too many to recall, too many to remember in agony. reading through everyone else's posts, it's hard to find a memory that can compare to most, but we are all wrought with sad days, incomparable to everyone else's, they belong only to ourselves, their meaning is only our own, their memory only as powerful as the moment they lived in, in our minds.

a force of habit, now smoking my second lucky cigarette. every pack i buy, i turn over two smokes, one for myself, one for... something - someone else, who now, is too far away from luck to be considered lucky. nonetheless, i turn her's over, in memory of less-sad days, in hope that luck will once again find me again...

december 24th, 1998.

beyond the sloping hills, filled with eastern evergreens that shadowed my home during this time, was a tipi. tucked behind the wilderness, its' weathered white canvas was streched around bleached lodge-poll pine trunks that reached some twenty feet in the air.

there was a snow-covered path that circled behind the woods of my home, around two or three cords of un-split wood. my father and i, had made purpose of the day to split this wood, to warm our log house by means of the stone fireplace that sat to the left of the living-room.

there was many possible factors that could have contributed to the events following - and such events may pale in comparison to events experienced by fellow posters - but again - to each their own, we share these sad days only to their extremes' with ourselves, and no other among us aside from ourselves can truely understand the pain associated.

our chores completed, wood split, re-located and stacked neatly in a pile just off the porch, i kicked my boots against the stairs leading to the west entrance to my home, loosening their days' accumulation of dirtied snow.

my cold, now gloveless hands gripped the door-knob in anticipation of the warmth that would greet me inside, quite to the contrary, upon opening the door, was my father, lying on the floor.

his legs and feet were contorted in an almost in-human position. right arm clutching his left, eyes bloodshot, forehead folded in an expression unspoken through his unusually discolored lips. "what the fuck's going on here?", i asked, to which he replied, "i pulled something, my arm here, it's all fucked up, jesus-christ, it hurts, just give me a couple minutes, i'll be alright". for some reason, in that moment, i thought nothing of it, "i'm going to go take a shower, you're alright, ya?", "fuck. of course, i'm fine, just give me a minute, i'll be fine, christ, go take a shower.".

i remember the soothing beads of water running down my face, along the contours of my skin. hands propped against the shower wall directly beneath their head, eyes closed - without even a second thought given to the vision provided only minutes prior. like most showers, this one was peaceful, and unlike most, the solice was broken by a frantic voice; "i have to take your dad to the hospital, something's wrong, i'll call..."

my hands' slid down the tile walls of the shower... it felt like hours, in the time it took to turn off the water, jump out of the tub, wrap a towel around myself, and run into the hall outside of the bathroom, the house was suddenly empty, vacant of my family.

i walked out, directly in front of the stairs that led to the front door, and sat down, half-naked on the steps, the rush of thought that followed almost too surreal and disorientating to recognize.

december 25th, 1998.

i asked to be alone, at the hospital, for a moment, with my father. the blanket that covered him reached just past his waste, his gown open just enough to reveal the bandages that covered his ravaged chest.

the strength missing from the hand i now held was disturbing, the eyes i now looked for comfort in were weak and without focus. "i hear the jello here, it's just about as good as you can get.", i pointed to the food tray, swung on its' arm opposite the side of the bed i stood on. he struggled to reply, "it really is crap, the hospital food. you'd think trying to bring a man back from the dead, they'd give you something a little better than this - but jesus christ."

outside the windows' of his room, the snow had begun to fall again, and back home there was a fire waiting to be built, it's flames awaiting the rage of recovery...

ryfo

best friend dying at 3am after my birthday he was more family than blood reletives the big 40 this year not sure how i will handle it so my saddest day may not have happened yet

alicat

This will be long as most of my posts are, and maybe longer because I have to respond to another member.

whtnoise: That was very sad and also unbelievably beautiful. I am finding it hard to type through my tears. I don't know, but assume your father died and I am sorry. Your last few sentences remind me in some small way of Robert Frost. I have never known another person that made "lucky" smokes. I have two. One for my husband and one for our son who died, S and L (12 and 19 in a pack). My husband has been gone for nearly three weeks in South Africa, the longest we have ever been apart in 16 yrs.. I am sad, lonely and (tonight, of a few during his absence) running on vodka and coke.

I don't agree that your memories don't compare with most. Everyone's thoughts and memories mean something to them if not to others that weren't there when they were built. We are all impressed upon by the events in our lives, whether someone else can relate or not.

My saddest day ever was the day our son died. He was born prematurely by 2 1/2 months because of an extremely rare genetic disorder (still not fully understood). He was born on my birthday. We went day after day to spend as much time as possible with him (while there were babies in the NICU just called "Baby Doe" because their parents couldn't deal with them or didn't want to). Our child was wanted practically from conception and we spent every minute possible with him. He struggled starting with his first breath. We were there when, at one point, he crashed and had three nurses and two doctors working to save a tiny preemie from dying, which they did.

For 2 1/2 monthes we practically lived at the hospital (mostly me 'cuz hubby had to work). Our son gained strength with each passing day. On the day of his "expected" due date, I went to the hospital as normal and spent a few hours with our son. Once home, I went next door to my friends apartment. Then my sister called. The hospital couldn't contact me at home so had called my dad's house. I needed to contact the hospital, which I did. Our son had died. I can't explain the emotions so I won't try. We got to the hospital as soon as we could. Nothing can prepare a person to hold their dead child in their arms. He was always beautiful, but in death, he looked peaceful, released from his suffering. Still, it was our child that we'd nurtured for 2 1/2 months. And he was lifeless in our arms. That's enough. Nothing against anyone on the TFP, but it almost seems wrong to explain further the heartwrenching moments that we went through, it's just to personal, so I won't (although I had at first and deleted it all).

Despite coming up on nearly 12 yrs.(my birthday every year), it never gets easier (possibly because he was born on my birthday). That may be a blessing in desguise, so that we never let his memory fade...

There are two more saddest days that I wanted to post but I must go to sleep, they will have to wait until tomorrow.

Ali

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'Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun, The frumious Bandersnatch!'--Jabberwocky, Lewis Carroll

"You cannot do a kindness too soon because you never know how soon it will be too late."--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Master_Shake

Prostate Cancer.

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You know something, I don't think the sun even... exists... in this place. 'Cause I've been up for hours, and hours, and hours, and the night never ends here.

Francis

My best buddy, Dirty Ernie, passed away 6 years ago this month. His viewing was on my birthday. The S.O.B. used to play practical jokes on me all the time. The last one wasnt a joke. I am now going on 54 and still think about him every day. Took 6 months to stop crying. We went to a lot of concerts together in the 70's and 80's, did lots of other things together too. I was his best man in his first wedding. (We arrived late, with pot ashes on our tuxes). They didnt call him Dirty Ernie for nuttin. I felt he would be along for the ride and be my sounding board over the years. Damn Ernie !!

herostar

I think I've been blessed. I honestly can't remember the worst day of my life, although there have been a few. I tend to take everything with a grain of salt and look at the better side of every situation so I don't remember bad things.

One time though a person I though was a good friend of mine got caught in a drug ring and blamed everything on me (I had no idea of this drug ordeal...). I ended up having to go to court about it and lost a friend.

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Got time to chill?

herostar

Wow, I thought I was the only one who thought like this. I usually don't grieve much at all because I am too logical and realize that it won't make someone undead or somemone's problems go away...

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Got time to chill?

cierah

"May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past."

Gilda

October 17th, 1992.

My sister Katie and I had both gotten our driver's licesnses the previous Monday. After six months of practicing with our Dad, it was the first Saturday night we'd be having when we were out on our own. A driver's license meant a later curfew, midnight instead of 11:00 on weekends, so we went to a late movie. As we were returning home, Katie driving, we approached a red light. As luck would have it, the light changed from red to green at just the right moment, and Katie managed to cruise into the intersection after slowing to about 10 mph.

A drunk driver approaching the intersection from our left didn't see his light change from green to yellow to red, and he ran through the light going at least 40 mph, more than a second after his light turned red. The front grill of his large, heavy four-wheel-drive pickup truck struck our car broadside, the front end of the truck striking squarely on the driver's door of our tiny Honda Civic. The front end of the truck penetrated more than a foot into the cabin, obliterating the left side of Katie's body, but leaving the right side, the side nearest me in the passenger seat, strangely unmarked.

Our car stuck to the front of the truck, and it pushed us forward, sparks flying up from the left side rims scraping on the pavement. The driver hit his brakes after he struck us, and we finally came to a stop some 200 feet down the road.

I was bruised and scraped, had a sore neck from the whiplash, and I had a welt on the side of my head where I'd struck the side windw on recoil, but was otherwise unharmed. Katies left side was gone, the front of the truck splattered with her blood, now pooling in in her seat and ther driver's side footwell. Her neck had been broken, and it lolled crazily off to one side at an angle not possible in a living person. I looked at her, not comprehending that she was gone, unable to reconcile the seemingly unharmed right side of her body with the splattered remains of the left. Although I remember it as having taken only a minute, I'm told that it was more than half an hour later when the jackhammer sound of the jaws of life prying open my door shook me from my shock. For that half hour, I had gone somewhere else; to this day it's still gone from me, in a place from which I can't retrieve it, and wouldn't want to.

I had a minor concussion, some scrapes from the flying glass, and a sore neck, but otherwise walked away unharmed. I was treated in the emergency room and released.

That was the sixteenth. It was the next day that I count as the saddest in my life. When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I thought to do was tell Katie about the horrible thing that had happened the night before. It wasn't until I saw her empty bed still neatly made, covers tight and smooth, pulle down halfway then folded over the pillow the way our mother had taught us as little girls, that I realized she was dead. And I wanted to run to my best friend, to cry and be comforted, to be told that things would get better, but that had always been Katie.

I sat there by myself, and I thought about why I was alive, and she was gone. Identical twins will develop divergent personality traits as they mature, and Katie had become slightly more assertive than I had. I'd usually defer to her to go first when we took turns if she insisted, which wasn't often. That Saturday, we had both wanted to drive going out. I insisted that I be given a fair chance to go first, which was unusual for me. We compromised, and flipped a coin. I called tails, and won. I chose to be the one to drive going out, and Katie would get to drive coming home.

That was why I was alive, and Katie, my sister, my best friend, my twin, my other self , was gone. A choice I had made resulted in her being the one to be killed in that accident instead of me. I crawled into her bed, crying, pitying myself and asking Katie for forgiveness for having killed her. It was another timeless interval, still gone, away with that half hour in the car where it can't get to me and hurt me anymore. More than 20 hours gone this time. I'm told that I ate a little bit, but wouldn't leave Katies bed.

I know now, intellectually, that the choice that killed Katie that day wasn't mine. It was the 20-year-old college student who chose to get drunk playing a binge drinking game and then chose to get behind the wheel of his truck to drive. It was the friends he was with who chose to encourage him to binge drink while underage and chose not to attempt to keep him from driving. It was the bouncer and the bartender who chose to look the other way or were merely careless about checking id's. It was a dozen choices people made that they shouldn't have, and which if they had done the right thing, would have resulted in that intersection being empty as we drove through it.

But though I know these things, I know them, my feelings on that following day and the weeks and months that followed lagged far behind. Most days, I can accept that I bear no responsibility for her death, but there are still dark days when those days following the accident come back to me, and I'm once again that scared little girl who killed her sister. I think I still revisit that half hour I spent in the car with Katie's corpse in my dreams, but mercifully, that time goes back into hiding when I wake up again.

October 17th is the day after, but really any day from the following week would have qualified; it's hard to order rank something like that.

Suave

I'd have to say the day my grandfather died, or rather the day I found out about it.

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"Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment. Most people are even incapable of forming such opinions." - Albert Einstein

"Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something." - Plato

Charlatan

1) The day my Dad committed suicide.

2) The day I found out my best friend from childhood killed two people (they had been bullying him for some time) and then turned the gun on himself.

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"My hands are on fire. Hands are on fire. Ain't got no more time for all you charlatans and liars."
- Old Man Luedecke

MSD

In April of 2002, a friend of mine ended a long struggle with bipolar disorder. My father went in for cancer surgery (third major surgery) the day of the memorial service. My mom came to pick me up after the service, and I asked her how my dad was doing. At that point I realized that she had probably been crying for the whole drive to get me, and all she was able to say was, "Not good."

She didn't have to say anything else.

Strange Famous

honestly, I dont think I can say any specific event has ever really affected me so much. Two of my grandparents and one of my sisters have died. But... I dont know, I dont really ever remember a saddest day.

I can recall times Ive been sad, and times Ive been scared.... but they all seem diminished now.

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"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

Spritebox

I experience about 3 months worth of severe depression everytime I return to the US from Paris.

The saddest times of my life.

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it's all nice on ice alright
and it's not day
and it's not night
but it's all nice on ice alright

ironmaiden7o7

Wow, there have been so many sad moments, I just can't pick one, but the one that really sticks out was when my best friend Debbie died, she was only 21, 4 years ago. She was gunned down by her husband. I still remember that day like it was yesterday, it was really painful, but thankfully, I was able to move on. And that was indeed the saddest moment in my life, she was my everything.

little_tippler

1) The day my father died
2)The night before my mom was operated on a burst aneurysm in her brain
3) The night my grandmother died

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Whether we write or speak or do but look
We are ever unapparent. What we are
Cannot be transfused into word or book.
Our soul from us is infinitely far.
However much we give our thoughts the will
To be our soul and gesture it abroad,
Our hearts are incommunicable still.
In what we show ourselves we are ignored.
The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged
By any skill of thought or trick of seeming.
Unto our very selves we are abridged
When we would utter to our thought our being.
We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams,
And each to each other dreams of others' dreams.

Fernando Pessoa, 1918