Personal Narrative: My Mother's Death

At times I wonder about how and why my life ended up the way it did. I always end up with this question; where did I go wrong? I often think that if my mother was still alive I wouldn’t be the way I am. I wouldn’t be so bitter. Why is it that my father had to be alive and my mom died? Couldn’t it have been the other way around? If I were adopted by the person who wanted to adopt me when I was a baby, I know for a fact my life would be so different….

A couple of years ago, my father and I got into this huge fight. I had to leave for work around 5am so I could be there on time. It was the fall season and around those hours it’s still dark outside. I got dressed and left for work. My phone was off all day. When I came home that night, I heard

I remember that day very vividly, my father sat us all down and we had a family meeting, but it wasn’t just the normal meeting we would have every week. It was such a huge difference. The atmosphere felt so hot and I knew there was bad news, but I couldn’t tell what. My father stumbled over his words a lot. He told all of us not to hate him and that he was terribly sorry. I still couldn’t figure out what he did that was so bad. He started out with “I killed your mother” I still didn’t get it until he started to explain. He said he stepped out on their marriage and caught a disease and passed it on to my mother and she got sick and died. When he said that I felt like never speaking to him ever again and I felt like crying my eyes out, but I stayed strong. How could he do this! To me! To us! It doesn’t make sense. I still couldn’t understand why. After that day it seemed like everything else in my life went downhill. I blocked out what he said for years because I couldn’t face it. The fact that you took her away from me was so devastating. But, here was the twist. I also found out that she gave up and stopped taking her medication so she can fight the disease. How do you just give up on me like that? I was your last born child and you give up? What about me? I have no memory of you, only what everyone tells me about you. I can’t remember your smell, your touch, your love for me,

I would always see him and I thought he was the cutest guy. I was raised with a slightly strict parent. He didn’t want all that stuff going on so of course I’m a kid and I snuck and did what I wanted to do anyway. My father wouldn’t let my brother and I play with them and finally one day he let us go next door and hang out with them. It was so exciting and the boy knew I liked him. We kissed each other and I couldn’t stay away after that. Every chance my father would allow I would go over there and hang out with him and his cousins. Then one day we couldn’t go over anymore because my father found out about the kiss. My brother liked his sister so he kissed her also. That night we got yelled at and he gave me a beaten. I knew I was wrong for doing what I did and that I was taught a certain way. Yes, it is normal to like someone, but all the extra stuff at my age was a no, no. My brother got off the hook. It was basically a pat on the back for him. I never forgot that day and I never will because from that day forward things became so much clearer to me. He treated my brother like gold and I couldn’t do anything. I hated the fact that things were like that, but my father never admitted to any of it. I would never raise my kids in that