On the day my father died, I remember walking home from school with my cousin on a November fall day, feeling the falling leaves dropping off the trees, hitting my cold bare face. Walking into the house, I could feel the tension and knew that something had happened by the look on my grandmother’s face. As I started to head to the refrigerator, my mother told me to come, and she said that we were going to take a trip to the hospital. The moment we stepped foot into the hospital, I could hear my aunt telling my mother that “he is in a better place now”. At that moment, something had already told me that my dad was deceased; it was like I could feel it or something. I felt the chills that all of a sudden came on my arms. As my mother and grandmother were both holding my hand, they took me into this small room. The walls were white, and it had a table with four tissue boxes sitting on the top. My other grandmother was there, and so were my two aunts, my uncles, and …show more content…
My mother was taking care of me, and my three other siblings all alone by herself. When my father was living my mother only had one job, but now she had to work more. She had a massive impact on our lives by making sure we had everything we needed. Because I was the oldest of my siblings, I felt like I was a parent. At just eight years old, I had to skip school just to make sure my siblings had someone to look after them while my mother worked. I was obligated to feed them, give them baths, and put clothes on them. It was very difficult, but I knew my mother had to pay bills, and take care of us and herself, so I knew she couldn’t afford a babysitter. When times got very tough, my mom would get stressed out and take it out on us by throwing tantrums, hollering at us and beating on us. I didn’t have a choice but to encourage my mother, and be the one to push her to not give
Being the oldest of seven, my mom had the responsibility of caring and looking after her siblings. Growing up her mom had left them at a very young age and did not come back for a while. She had to act as a parent to her siblings and also work to help her dad be a single parent to seven kids. They did not get to go on family vacations, camps, or even have a lot of free time to do what they wanted. The only time she could feel free and be like a kid was when she went to school.
The ride home had been the most excruciating car ride of my life. Grasping this all new information, coping with grief and guilt had been extremely grueling. As my stepfather brought my sister and I home, nothing was to be said, no words were leaving my mouth.Our different home, we all limped our ways to our beds, and cried ourselves to sleep with nothing but silence remaining. Death had surprised me once
There’s nothing more heart wrenching and soul consuming than losing a parent. You feel your whole world crumbling and blazing with a fire of disparity deep within your body. Rocking you into depression and holding you there till you feel as though you’ve lost your grasp in reality. The denial that, they are still there with you in this world and not lost forever in a sea of memories and a choir of “They’re watching you from up there, looking down at you.” But they’ll never know the connection that a father has with his daughter.
When I left the hospital that night, I went back to our family’s house to clean up in the aftermath. My father never came home that night; Nor did he come home the following night or the night after that. Eventually, he stopped coming home altogether. He claimed that he was going out for drives to think. At the time, I feared I was going to lose him to suicide. I thought to myself, how could he go on without my mom? How could any of
Later that night, we were debating on going home or staying with my grandparents. We thought that it would make them feel more secure,and so they could rest. My sister and I were sleeping in the master bedroom,my mom on the couch, and my grandma in the blue room (back bedroom). My mom slept on the couch so she could hear for my grandpa if he needed something. He woke needing to go to the bathroom. My mom got up and helped him go to the bathroom. Sweat was running down his face, so we got him a wet washcloth, and layed back down. Shortly after,he was having really bad chest pains,my mom got my grandma immediately. Mom started to do CPR, but it was to tragic. Wide awake,we called 911. The paramedics came right into the house, and asked what the situation was. We spoke,” He had pneumonia for a while and was having bad chest pains,we started to do CPR but we saw,it wasn’t helping.” The doctors asked us to leave the room for a moment. He closed the door behind him,about five minutes later he came out. We heard the worst news of all time, “ He is gone,he passed away”. My sister and I
Three years ago, on December 14, I awoke to the sound of a man with an unfamiliar voice. He sat very awkward on my couch, as if he was in discomfort. His palms were wet with sweat as he tried to stutter words out. While my mother, sister and I sat there nervously awaiting what news this man brought, he came out of nowhere and said it. His words cut through me like a knife and the whole would just seemed to stop. He explained that my father had been in a mining accident and they had not been able to find him. Lost for words, I tried to comfort my family and tell them that he is going to be all right.
Another few days go on and my dad comes into my room to talk to me, he was on the phone with someone and he said “Come talk to your grandpa” I quickly jumped out of my chair and quickly snatched the phone out of his hand. I and my grandfather talked for a few hours and he told me everything that happened to him.
Physics, sleep, physics, sleep. Physics. I shut off the alarm, switched on the light, and grabbed my textbook from my night-table. Today was just the start of another ordinary day of school, and I could not help myself from looking forward to the weekend as I went over Newton’s three laws in my head. As I turned to the next page of my notes, I was startled by the sound of a doorbell. At four o’clock, who could be at the door? Could it just be a simple mistake? The wrong house maybe? My intuition said otherwise; I knew something was wrong. My mother got up out of bed and rushed to the front window. I heard the voices of my father’s friends as my mother let them in. The next thing I knew, I heard my mother crying as the two men tried to console her; my father had passed away.
This type of cancer, I had later learned, was incurable and would take no longer than half a year to steal my father away. Over the months his health quickly began to deteriorate; the only thing I could do was watch in anguish and pray that God gave me the strength to push through the heartache and hopelessness that was overcoming me. The last few days I spent with my father were the hardest days of my life. He wasn’t the daddy that had raised me; instead, he could barely form a sentence correctly or even walk on his own. This was never the way he wanted to be remembered, yet these moments are the ones that stick with me and hurt me the most. I stuck by his side in his bed for two days straight. With my arms wrapped around him, I could feel his chest go up and down as I followed his breathing pattern; I wished in silence that it would never cease, but wishes don’t always come true. Being as a few hours later, with family gathered around, I whispered my last “goodbye” and “I love you” to the first man I had ever loved. He was gone. God had called him home and with him he took a piece of my heart that can never be fully
We walked into St. Mary’s Hospital in Saginaw. Then we walked into an elevator. I wanted this to have never happened, I just wanted to wake up. I don't know what to do, is what I said to myself as the doors slowly shut. We walked to his hospital room. As we walked in we were quiet. We walked up to his bed and I will never be able to erase what I saw because it is carved into the back of my brain. I saw my dad in a hospital bed and just looking at him made me want to cry and vomit at the same time. I just stared at him as if I were a zombie or statue. Then I started to cry and cry and cry. I couldn't stop crying. I was so upset with all that was going on. After about 30 minutes of me balling my eyes out we left. Maximus and I spent the rest of the weekend at our grandparents house. On monday we go to school like any other
It was three days before the beginning of my junior year, and my sister was crying into the phone, desperately trying to wake me up. She kept wailing, “He won’t wake up, he won’t wake up!” At the time, I didn’t register what was happening and there was no way I could have prepared myself. Regardless of my preparedness, an hour later I was in the hospital being informed that the EMTs weren’t able to revive my dad, that he had passed that morning after he saw my mom off to work.
My father’s death was the first of many that I have experienced. In order to fully understand what had happened at that age, I had to elicit information from my mother and grandparents. It seemed like my happiness had evaporated out of thin air after I finally realized my dad would never be coming back. I learned just how sad death is after I figured out all the clues given to me. It changed
The moment I walked into my house after a long day of school, I realized that something was amiss. I noticed two pairs of work boots that hardly ever see together. It only meant one thing, that both of my parents were home early. A rare occurrence seeing as my dad comes home from work when everyone is asleep and my mom just barely makes it home in time to make dinner. I knew immediately that something must have happened for them to both be home early and at the same time. Thoughts raced through my head as I took off my shoes and backpack, “Am I in trouble or my brothers?” Dread filled my heart and mind as I poked my head around the corner and into the living room. The sight before me made my heart drop. My mom’s eyes were bloodshot and tears were rolling down her face while my dad had a puffy red nose and watery eyes. My mom explained through choked sobs that my grandmother on my dad’s side had just recently passed. I grew numb and blocked out my mom’s sobs. How could the person who took care of me for a good majority of my childhood be dead? I had only spoken to her a few days ago so it couldn’t be possible for her to pass away this quickly. My disbelief whispered selfish suggestions to me, “Question her! Ask her if it’s true!” I ignored my disbelief and went to embrace my anguished parents. I always dreaded the moment where I would have to experience the death of a loved one.
Its 3 am, and I’m standing dumbfounded in the hospital surrounded by my crying family. The harsh pain of my father’s death hadn’t quite hit me. In every person’s life, there comes a point when they are faced with a hardship that changes their life in a profound way, and for me it was my father’s diagnosis and eventual death from brain cancer. I was only eleven when he was first diagnosed, I didn’t have any idea of the seriousness of the situation until he started getting worse.
Silence, it is all that I hear in this house. There is not even a soul to spark a sense of joy in my heart. Utter bitterness is all that remains. I still remember the dreadful day my father died. It was as if the most valuable thing of my life vanished in a heartbeat; there was no warning whatsoever. His death was an instant pain that came to me without the remorse of god. My young life was different from the rest of the people in Jefferson, Mississippi. Love for another human being was a strange phenomenon that I could not even imagine to think about until a man came to my life.