Getting To Know-Personal Narrative

“I’m sorry for your lost, everything is going to be okay” this is all I heard for the next few weeks, even months after when someone who just found out would give their condolences. Close family friends were over, they were in my childhood house talking with my father, and their daughter, my sister, and I was in the big beautiful backyard swimming in the pool. My mom was not home, she was always home especially when friends were over. Something wasn’t right, my instincts were trying to tell me something, and my stomach hurt yet I kept playing ‘marco polo’ in our huge blue concrete pool. Although I could not hear what the adults were saying, I was curious. I kept looking back trying to see if I could make out the words being formed with their lips. A few

I quickly dried off with the pink mermaid towel. Our friends came outside and sat down on the poolside chairs without making eye contact or making a single sound. I went inside to find my father sitting down on the big comfy lazy boy chair in our living room just off the kitchen. He asked me to sit on his lap, and he put his arms around my side. We sat there in silence for a few seconds. My stomach churned, something was really wrong. In a quiet calm voice my dad explained to me where my mother was and why she wasn’t with us. I couldn’t hold it together; tears came pouring down my face, I wanted to scream. I wanted to see my mother so bad; her gentle hugs were so comforting. All I could think about was how I would no longer be able to ride my blue sparkly bike with My Little Pony stickers on it down the street to my grandparents house to hear my grandpa's’ stories, eat all the orange popsicles in the freezer, and call him up to see if he had the ingredient my mom forgot to get for baking. My dad asked me not to tell my sister yet, that she was too young to understand what was going on right