Lily

At eighteen my life is far from over and despite the fact that I have thousands of days ahead of me, I know that no day will be more tragic than what happened two years ago.

Thursday, December 6, 1917 was a beautiful day. The sun shined on the water in a breath-taking way, brightening Halifax with its’ fierce rays. However, looks are deceiving for that day was far from beautiful.

I had the task of getting my younger sister Lily up and ready for school. It is not easy waking up an eight year old. I remember how much she annoyed me that morning and how, when she finally left for school I would breath a tiny sigh of relief, thankful that I would be given peace and quiet for a few hours.

It was nine when my world began crashing down. Lily was playing by the dock before the school bus came. I sat perched on the couch watching her gallop and seeing her throw her head back in a carefree laugh.

I looked behind her and the sight I saw made my heart stop. “Lily!” I hollered, sprinting out the door but I was too late.

The Mont Blanc a 3000 ton ship, carrying 2,300 tons of wet and dry Picric acid, 200 tons of TNT, 10 tons of gun cotton, and 35 tons of Benzol crashed into the Imo. It was 9:04 AM when my world hit the ground. A scratching screeching sound filled my ears popping my eardrums. The bang was heard next, loud enough for all of Halifax to hear, just as a blaze of fire exploded into the air.

Glass shards came shooting from every house and I quickly dropped to the ground. Tiny sharp pieces pierced my skin, shrieking pounded into my ears viciously as tears stained my face. Make it stop, I thought, I’m so scared please make it all go away. My wish was not granted. I got up quickly I needed to find Lily. The heat was unbearable, as if I was in a desert.

I turned around to face Pier 6, my eyes fervently searching for Lily. No pain has ever compared to what I felt at that moment. Instead of the pier there were huge flames, licking their way farther and farther up the pier. There was no one there.

The pain stabbed me, a blade to the heart. I fell to the ground weeping. Lily! Lily! No Lily! Don’t go! Stay! Lily! The thoughts kept running through my head then one came, the only glimpse of hope I could see I grabbed on to it, promising to never let go. Maybe she got away.

I got up, the endless tears making tracks on my cheeks and ran. Lily! I started running to the pier. Lily! I was almost there when two strong arms grasped me.

“Stop! You can’t go there; there might be a second explosion.” A man in a uniform stated.

“Lily!” was my only reply, my voice cracking, “I have to find Lily!”

“No one was found on the dock, we believe everyone was killed.” The man replied gravely.

“NO!” my piercing shriek filled the air. I wriggled out of the man’s grasp and ran. I didn’t know where I was going, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Lily nothing else. Lily! I love you Lily! I was caught up in a stampede of people all running up to higher grounds, I had no choice but to go along. When we reached Citadel Hill I fell to the ground and wept. Lily. Lily. I love you Lily.

The days following the explosion were horrid. There was so much damage. Many families spent the time grieving over the loved ones they lost, some of the lucky ones were united. The healing process began; I met people who, like me, lost a loved one. We shared stories about the ones we loved, we cried and we healed. I became really good friends with some of those people and I realized that life goes on. I still miss Lily with all my heart, I even find myself crying because I saw something of hers’ or breaking into giggles because I remembered one of her jokes. This experience taught me to always tell someone if you love them and I hope that if anyone has to go through something as traumatizing as this that they have someone there to help them. I love you Lily.