Adesida Emerge program The Most Frightening Experience of My Life It all started one hot summer morning at sunrise, July 5th 2012 around 3 am the day after the 4th of July holiday. I was awakened by the crying and screaming of my family over me yelling at me “Get UP FUNMI PLEASE”! And as I jumped up startled and shaking wondering what’s going on walking into my, mother’s room seeing a rainfall of tears fall down her face, she then tells me with the most hurtful voice ever “YOUR BROTHER HAS BEEN SHOT AND KILLED”! I completely went into shock as, I could feel my heart drop I started to panic badly wishing, and praying, and hoping saying to myself I wish that someone would pinch me, and wake me up from this terrible dream. The news I had gotten at that moment felt so unreal never would a day go pass in, which I would have thought about going through a loss of one of my siblings this soon. Hours later around 11 pm that afternoon …show more content…
It took my family more than a week to plan the funeral , because they were still in shock that, he was actually dead ,and many of us didn’t have that much money at the time but luckily my dad helped out with most. Walking into the doors of the church was really hard for me, as I walked slowly I could see his blue casket facing towards me, with a bunch of flowers on top. Looking over at him lying there in a casket was unbelievable, I just couldn’t help it to let out my flow of tears, and touch his cold body letting him know that I will always love him, and that hopefully we will meet again. He wore a sky blue button up shirt with black pants and a cross chain, that had Jesus on it I placed over his neck. Omar looked very nice and like himself laying there. There were a lot of people that attended the funeral everyone said special prayers for him shared funny memories, and pictures they had with him, and viewed the body
The other night I had a dream. I dreamed of a boy whom I had known a long time ago, but since then he had disappeared completely from my life. In my dream, I saw him sitting beside my bed and talking to me. He told me about the trip that he had taken with his parents, his two older brothers, and his sister when he was seven years old. He told me how his parents had been victimized by a man who knew about his parents’ desperate attempt to flee from Vietnam, so he took advantage of them.
I’m living this nightmare, but am also telling myself it’s not true because I feel better. Today my family’s plan is to go see Tanner in the funeral home. I don’t want to go and I beg to stay home. My mom and dad force me to go and see him. When I go up to his coffin and see him, I start to scream and run out of the room. I was terrified because I was afraid he was going to get up and grab me. This seems silly, but I’m in complete shock and seeing him like this makes me scared. He was just with me a couple days ago and here he is now lying in front of me. After I calm down I go and look at him once more. I look at his hair and his face. Thinking to myself, “I’m going to miss you Tanner. I’m going to miss your laugh, your personality, your smile, etc.” I touch his face and it puts me back into the cold reality that this is really happening. My brother really died and he’s really right in front of me in a
Kneeling on my apartment floor, I held the phone up against my ear and frantically cried for help. She laid in a puddle of blood with one of her wrists slit open. I screamed her name and begged her to stay awake. The paramedics barged through the door and lifted her on the gurney, while I remained on the floor in a complete state of shock. My roommate had just tried to end her life. Police officers bombarded me with questions, but I struggled to answer them because all I could do was continuously replay the event in my head. After I finally managed to explain my side of the story to the authorities, one of the officers accompanied me to the hospital where I sat by my roommate’s side awaiting her parents’ arrival.
“26% of U.S. children will experience a traumatic event before they reach the age of four. More than 66% of U.S. children will experience a traumatic event by the time they reach the age of sixteen.” Many people believe that trauma is an experience when in reality trauma is a response, as for complex trauma, complex trauma is the effect of multiple long-term events. Many people do not think about how complex trauma effects a child in the classroom, but if a child is starving, or moving from home to home, or in a situation of abuse, there is a good chance that their spelling words and math facts are not going to be the first thing on their minds during the day.
I can still hear the gunshots leave thunderous ringing in my ears. My father went to war when this all started. He died less than one week later. He wasn’t there to take care of my mother. My two brothers and two sisters had to help me take care of her. The gunshot wound became infected. A few hours later, she was dead.
In life, many things are taken for granted on a customary basis. For example, we wake up in the morning and routinely expect to see and hear from certain people. Most people live daily life with the unsighted notion that every important individual in their lives at the moment, will exist there tomorrow. However, in actuality, such is not the case. I too fell victim to the routine familiarity of expectation, until the day reality taught me otherwise.
Death is a difficult subject for many people. The topic alone can cause a lot of anxiety because of all the things we don’t know. Most of us fear death for many reasons. Whether it’s your final day, or a final moment with a loved one, it’s a painfully scary process because of its uncertainty.
I think it was at its peak from about the age of twelve to roughly
It was a Sunday morning. We got the call from the convalescent home. I went up with my mother and brother. As I walked in, I remember seeing him in the bed. He just looked so peaceful; it was the best thing that could have happened. Even so, death is terrible no matter what the condition of the person. No one is prepared to accept death no matter what, where or how it happens.
When I looked in the rearview mirror is when I knew it was all over. June 25, 2013 was the most tragic day in my life. It was not until that day that I realized how much I appreciate my life and my family. I was on the freeway headed towards the Galleria in Houston, TX, passing the tall Texaco building on this bright sunny afternoon, when everything went downhill. I remember seeing all of the cars in front of me have their bright red tail lights on because everyone was coming to a stop. As soon as I slowed down, I looked into my rearview mirror to see a beige car not slowing down at all but instead looking down at his phone texting, it was already too late for me to do anything. I felt as if my life were over and there was nothing anyone could do, I was sixteen years old when I had my first car accident. I learned that I should have stayed home the afternoon I got into my first car accident. That afternoon I remember gripping my steering wheel so tightly because I was so nervous about the car behind me that I could feel all of the ridges and grooves throughout my entire steering wheel and every indention in my steering
February twenty-third 2010 was just a regular ordinary day. I was on my way to class on this cold February afternoon, when my phone rung. It was my cousin on the other end telling me to call my mom. I could not figure out what was wrong, so I quickly said okay and I hung up and called my mom. When my mom answered the phone I told her the message but I said I do not know what is wrong. My mom was at work and could not call right away, so I took the effort to call my cousin back to see what was going on. She told me that our uncle was in the hospital and that it did not look good. Starting to tear up I pull over in a fast food restaurant parking lot to listen to more to what my cousin had to say. She then tells me to tell my mom to get to the hospital as quickly as possible as if it may be the last time to see her older brother. My mom finally calls me back and when I tell her the news, she quickly leaves work. That after-noon I lost my Uncle.
It took my family more than a week to plan the funeral , because they were still in shock that, he was actually dead ,and many of us didn’t have that much money at the time but luckily my dad helped out with most. Walking into the doors of the church was really hard for me, as I walked slowly I could see his blue casket facing towards me, with a bunch of flowers on top. Looking over at him lying there in a casket was unbelievable, I just couldn’t help it to let out my flow of tears, and touch his cold body letting him know that I will always love him, and that hopefully we will meet again. He wore a sky blue button up shirt with black pants and a cross chain, that had Jesus on it I placed over his neck. Omar looked very nice and like himself laying there. There were a lot of people that attended the funeral everyone said special prayers for him shared funny memories, and pictures they had with him, and viewed the body
...ry service were beautiful. Everyone that spoke had something nice to say and somehow I found enough strength in my self to get up and read prayer that his parents had asked me to read.
It was Friday night, I took a shower, and one of my aunts came into the bathroom and told me that my dad was sick but he was going to be ok. She told me that so I did not worry. I finished taking a bath, and I immediately went to my daddy’s house to see what was going on. My dad was throwing-up blood, and he could not breath very well. One of my aunts cried and prayed at the same time. I felt worried because she only does that when something bad is going to happen. More people were trying to help my dad until the doctor came. Everybody cried, and I was confused because I thought it was just a stomachache. I asked one of my older brothers if my dad was going to be ok, but he did not answer my question and push me away. My body shock to see him dying, and I took his hand and told him not to give up. The only thing that I heard from him was, “Daughters go to auntie...
Years ago I had the most terrifying, shocking day of my life. I had between seven or eight years when this happened. The day before the accident, all my family was at my grandfather’s house. We all were eating the food my mother and my aunts brought, telling jokes at the dinner table. Meanwhile, I was playing with my cousins in the backyard. Everyone was enjoying the family meeting. As the time passed by and everyone was about to go home, my mother suggested the idea that we all should go at my grandparent’s ranch next day, since everyone was in town we all could have the chance to go. Everyone liked the idea. It was the perfect time to go because it was a weekend. As they all agreed to go, they begun to decide who bring what to the gathering. Who would have thought that thanks to that suggestion, I would lead me to the hospital the day of the reunion.