The good book inspired by the architect and creator of the universe, but scribbled down for us by the flesh and blood which He deemed a little righteous in his sight, holds somewhere in its pages that, "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens."  Out of the seasons and purposes stated in that chapter's page, is found "a time to weep, and a time to laugh." 

If rewriting the fundamentals governing the universe were a right that were surrendered in the hands of the majority, the procurement of a survey to find out how many would change the things written on this passage would have been mouthwatering in every generation. Everyone would request its amendment.

"Who would want to weep? Who would want to lose a loved one? Who would hate happiness enough to choose sorrow?" Nobody. 

       As the first semester was slowly drawing down its curtains, the unexpected was carefully but indirectly weaving its way into Helen's life.

Back in Burnington, Joshua, her father, had been experiencing strange changes in his body that he thought was not alarming at first, so he kept to himself to prevent his wife from overreacting.

    At first, he began to experience odd pains between his shoulder blades whenever he was behind the wheels. That was barely a month before Helen moved to Gimmerton. He thought it to be something that was bound to happen after driving himself for twenty years and over, but it was no reason for him to behave like "those overfed and arrogant rich folks who hire drivers to drive them around when it's not a difficult task to undertake yourself." 

As time went on, he noticed a discomfort in his neck, it felt tight but "probably I slept on the wrong side of the bed, that's all" was the answer he'd give to his wife whenever he was found performing neck exercise but finding them an agony. The symptoms progressed to cold sweat in his palm, fatigue, insomnia, sharp pains in his chest, but he still was a cat about it until one evening when he drove by the salon his wife worked at to pick her up just like he did every evening. When he stepped inside the salon, he noticed it was a busy night for Chelsea, so he prepared himself to wait. Chelsea delivered a quick kiss to his lips, and after a brief conversation to find out how he was, she patted his shoulder, and whispered, "Have a seat, it'll be your turn in thirty." 

He smiled and sat in one of the seats provided. Chelsea's workers giggled at her husband's expression of humour, as he grabbed a hair dryer and a comb, then he commenced imitating his wife, performing his own hairstyling on a dummy. 

      After a while, work in the salon was done, and they could go home in peace. As Joshua tried to open the side door for his wife, Chelsea noticed his hand sliding by the pull-out handle right in front of him almost three times. She chuckled and said, "Come on Sir, I'm starving."

"Since when did this car begun to have two or more pull out handles on one door?" Joshua asked with a tone of seriousness, but upon an attentive listen by his wife, she noticed a struggle in his attempt to speak every word.

"Josh, is everything okay?" She asked in her fright.

"Yeah-no" he stuttered "there are two-three of you too" At this point Chelsea noticed his hands shivering and his eyes roaming around dreamily. She quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and caused him to relax his head on her shoulder, then gently, she helped him into the car and drove him to the hospital. 

       At the hospital that night, while pacing back and forth behind the door that separated her from her husband, the doctor in charge of his examination, sneaked up on her quietly with a look of concern on his face. Her nervousness kept her from noticing his presence until he waved at her. 

"Mrs McDonagh," He called to her, interpolating her busy brain pondering on what could be the cause of her husband's current predicament.

"Doctor, what's wrong with my husband?" She queried much rapidly, but not to the surprise of the doctor who had seen wives and husbands show off similar reactions when their loved ones are admitted to the hospital. 

"For now he is okay-"

"What is wrong with my husband doctor?" She pressed, rage beginning to build up inside her. 

"I'm afraid your husband has been suffering from a heart attack for quite a while now, and his inability to seek medical attention has unfortunately narrowed his life span, and he is in danger." Chelsea shivered at his words as fear gripped every fibre of her being. "Right now he is out of danger, but I cannot tell for how long he can hold on to life, I'm really sorry to break this to you madam."

Tears suddenly drowned her eyes, but she quickly rubbed them off to show how tough she was. However, her toughness did not hold on longer like she had hoped, for unwittingly, she grabbed the doctors cloak and begun to unleash all the emotions that would not submit to her suppression, and yelled, punching his chest profusely and eventually burying her face in his chest to wail. 

"I'm really sorry madam, we did all we could. However, I will entreat you to say goodbye to him while he still breathes, he has not more than a few minutes to let go of life, he could use a good send off."

Chelsea finally released the doctor after giving his words a thought. She dried up her eyes, and with hands shivering, scooped out her phone from her shoulder bag, to break the news to Helen. The latter had just finished up with her evening studies, and was about to shut her phone down to reduce its radiation, which she heard, posed a threat on a person's health from a health talk she watched on the TV at the diner. 

A smiled rounded up her face as she noticed the name 'Queen', display on her screen when the phone begun to ring.

"Look who missed me so soon, it's not even Christmas Ma." Was the tease that proceeded from her mouth when she answered the call. 

"Helen," her mother's voice sunk as she pronounced her name, without her saying anything Helen noticed something wasn't okay. 

Before Helen could say anything, her mother exploded into tears, sobbing bitterly, making her words difficult for her to make out.

"Mum, what's wrong? What's happening? What's going? Please tell me something." Helen rapped in fear.

"Your f-father" she stuttered.

The fear of the worst news possible being thrown at her in any second, caused her to tremble.

"He has a heart attack, Helen." Her mother informed.

Helen felt the world around her crumbling down all of a sudden, and when she heard her say the doctor predicts his passing away in less than an hour, she screamed out loud and commenced an uncontrollable cry, ripping apart everything she set eyes on, asking why he had to leave. 

Her mother said all she could to console her, but could anything stop her father from suffering a fate which meant she would never see him again? 

      She hanged up the phone on her mother, and quickly dialled the number that came to mind, Alex's. He was there with her a while ago and probably had not gotten home yet. 

"Can you take me to Burnington, please? I have to see him before he leaves." She begged him.

"See who, Helen, it's ten-"

"My father is dying, will you help me or not?" She yelled at him.

"Okay-okay, I'm sorry. Get your things, I'm on my way."

"Please hurry up, I'm begging you, please Alex."