My dad was snaking my grandmother's toilet. I was about 5 years old. Apparently, he did not take safety seriously back then, because he didn't realize that he was standing in a small puddle of water. Water and electricity are not a good match.
So I was standing there in the bathroom, watching him do this fascinating repair work. All of a sudden, as I'm watching, he flies across the room, through the bathroom door, and slams violently against the hallway wall. I watched as he slid slowly down the wall, finally resting lifelessly, with only his head perched up against the wall.
I stood for just a moment before screaming for my mother and grandmother at the top of my lungs, over and over: "DADDY'S DEAD!! DADDY'S DEAD!! DADDY'S DEAD!! DADDY'S ... " You get the idea.
My mother and grandmother ran into the hallway, and we all stood there for a few moments staring, mouths agape. My mother finally spoke up and said plainly, " My God, he's actually dead." We still stood for a few moments until an amazing thing happened: he came to, and looked around groggily.
We all sighed, and I began crying with relief as my mother told him that we thought he was dead. He started laughing. I asked him, "Why are you laughing? We thought you were dead!!"
I didn't understand at the time, but my dad is one of those people who laughs when he's nervous. I screamed this time, "Stop laughing! I thought you were dead!!" Of course, he laughed even more, causing me to scream at the top of my lungs again, this time repeating, "I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU!! I HATE ... " You get the idea. I was still screaming when I stormed off.
Needless to say, I got over it after a short while. I was just happy he was still alive. My dad is still around, doing well.