It was a dark and stormy night. The kind of night that makes you want to curl up in a ball in the corner. The kind of night that people cry themselves to sleep on. The kind of night people don’t get to sleep at all.The kind of night that people kill themselves. The kind of night people die.
The night my dad died.
The night the world came crashing down on me.
The night of the tornado.
There are snippets I remember. Moments that are blisteringly clear in my memory. The roar of the wind. The cold of the cement in the basement. My mother screaming. The crashing as the walls fell down on us. The pale hand, sticking out beneath the rubble.
But mostly the fear.
The sickening feeling in my stomach, the bile in my mouth, the dryness of my throat, the cramping pain in my fingers from gripping the table leg so hard.
The terror.

And then the silence.
The silence of death.
The silence that follows the destruction.
The end of the storm.
The end of everything.