In the early years of my childhood from what I could remember life had seemed to be decent. My mom was flourishing in her career at the Post Office and making an admirable amount of money, considering the fact that she was a single parent. My mom was very dedicated to ensuring that my brother and I had an exceptional life growing up. She worked what I would have liked to call insane hours. But even as kids, Derek and I understood the importance of her work ethics. We had each other and other relatives to care for us to make sure that we were never left alone or so that we didn't feel abandoned. To me life couldn't get any better then this. That was until my mother found a lump in her breast. I can recall that memory as if it had just happened yesterday. That one day, a lump that would change our lives forever , that small lump but yet so powerful and damaging that threaten to take my mother away from her children. It was like any other normal day. My mom was in the bathroom doing her normal routine when she came out of the bathroom and told Derek and I to get dressed. I don't know what made me look up that day, but I did. When I looked into my mother's eyes I knew something was wrong. You have to understand that my mother is a brave and strong woman that never expressed nor showed her emotions towards Derek and me other than her happiness. So that day when I looked into her eyes I saw nothing but pain, anger, and sorrow. At that time I couldn't quite find the words to describe what I had seen but now I know those were the perfect words to describe that look. It was terrifying, but yet she still remained so calm. Looking back on that day I don't know which really scared me the most, that look in my mother's eyes or the calmness in ... ... middle of paper ... ...ion of the Brady Bunch. Although we had fun and enjoyed it each other's company it was still a struggle for us to make ends meet. My mother took out another loan to help with some of the bills and medical expenses for all the kids. Although we had another income in the household it still wasn't enough. We had four boys in the house all of which played sports which meant non stop absorption of food. We had 4 girls and 2 adult women in the house and never ending menstrual cycles. Life at 7116 Roland Blvd was like an entire another world on it it’s on. I'll never forget those memories because even though they weren't always the best. I still believe that was one the happiest times of my life. I had become so much closer with my family overall. It was like God had put us there for a reason. Without any of those experiences I wouldn't have become the person I am today.
Living our busy lives no one else in the family could travel to Houston. Grandma was a strong woman. She could overcome anything and cancer was not going to defeat her. When she arrived at the hospital the doctors took a cat scan and figured out that she had stage four melanoma skin cancer. While my mother and grandma were at M.D. Anderson I was at home living a normal life just starting my first high school basketball season. Every night I worried about how she was doing not thinking about my school work or my athletics. A couple weeks later I called grandma and asked her how she was doing and she assured me that everything was going to be okay and that I should not worry about her. That’s how she lived. She never put herself first in any situation and family and friends were her main focus. Grandma would do anything to make her grandkids happy. I told my grandma I loved her and hung up the phone. The next day at school I looked up the percentage of people killed by melanoma skin cancer and the results were not good. One person dies of melanoma every 54 minutes. When I got home that evening I told my dad that I needed to be in Houston with my grandma. He said he didn’t think that he could make it happen with his busy schedule. I called my mom upset realizing that
In the result of her brother and father near death from a car wreck, my mother had to stay strong for all the siblings and family. The grief across the family was already bad enough and it wouldn’t have gotten better if it wasn’t for my mom getting mentally strong for everybody and keeping hope. It ended up her dad being fine but as for her brother it would've been a miracle if he lived due to the accident. After his rehabilitation and him getting better the family felt great but no one thought it could’ve gotten worse. Since the car was smashed her brothers head and left him with brain problems, Charles (her brother) forgot who the family was. The doctor and the whole family went through a long process of teaching Charles who they were. Eventually he remembered everything except for everything that had happened 2 years before the car crash. This was an experience that the family was not ready for at all and luckily my mom stayed strong for
Came from a poorer background. Have to fly across the country. Finding somewhere to live.
Lastly, after I officially got adopted. I was use to this family and thought of them as my parents. I obviously missed my real mom and sometimes still do, my new parents were awesome and we went on a lot of vacations. We went to Disney world, Sea world, Washington dc and more. I enjoyed most of the trips and would enjoy Dc more now than then. When we started to get use to this home we ended up moving to Minnesota from Missouri. This was a very big weather change, which affected me a lot at first, but I adapted fast. I have now lived in Minnesota for the majority of my life and really enjoy it.
There are no words to describe what I witnessed. No child should ever have to witness the physical abuse of one parent onto another. It was gut wrenching. It was odd, and confusing at times, as a family we had everything. During that time, we were considered upper middle class. No one would have guessed the hell that my mother endured. It affected me the most because I am the oldest and would help my mother after my father’s physical attacks on her. As awful as this may sound, my father’s death was truly the beginning of life for my mother. However, for me I believe at that time my cognitive and emotional development were affected as a result of my father’s death.
Nancy was only four years old when her grandmother died. Her grandmother had a big lump on the lower right hand side of her back. The doctors removed it, but it was too late. The tumor had already spread throughout her body. Instead of having a lump on her back, she had a long stitched up incision there. She couldn’t move around; Nancy’s parents had to help her go to the bathroom and do all the simple things that she use to do all by herself. Nancy would ask her grandmother to get up to take her younger sister, Linh, and herself outside so they could play. She never got up. A couple of months later, an ambulance came by their house and took their grandmother away. That was the last time Nancy ever saw her alive. She was in the hospital for about a week and a half. Nancy’s parents never took them to see her. One day, Nancy saw her parents crying and she have never seen them cry before. They dropped Linh and her off at one of their friend’s house. Nancy got mad because she thought they were going shopping and didn’t take her with them.
For many years I would pass by the house and long to stop and look at it. One day I realized that the house was just that, a house. While it served as a physical reminder of my childhood, the actual memories and experiences I had growing up there were what mattered, and they would stay with me forever.
Sometimes I wish I could just tell everyone the truth, maybe then everyone would understand. My friends would then understand why I have to work two jobs or why I am always so tired. My professors may then understand why some deadlines are so difficult for me to meet or why I am late getting to class from time to time. Maybe the community would be more giving or understanding of my situation if I told them truth. The truth that my family is drowning. We are drowning in debit. Debit accrued through medical bills from hospital stays and medicine. Would people even believe me? From the outside my family looks picture perfect, but if they only knew our true situation.
I don't have a lot of fantastic memories of childhood. There were no spectacular family adventures, no unique family projects that taught some sort of moral lesson, no out-of-the-ordinary holidays. We ate family meals together, but most of the time the children and adults lived in different worlds. The kids went to school, did homework, and played; the adults worked. I was lucky, though. When I wanted a little of both worlds, I could always turn to Grandpa.
My mother seemed so happy. In my reflection of the situation her dream of a family had come true. She had me and my father, we were spending quality time together. She wasn't too fond of fishing, not that it was my favorite thing to do either; but my father was taking us. Wow he loved fishing. It's funny, I can't really remember what my mother was wearing but then again she wasn't in the picture. She was behind the camera and I think sometimes my memories fade when there isn't a picture to remind me.
Some of my earliest memories were formed around our greatest struggles with poverty. During my elementary years we were cramped up in a small trailer; just my mom, my sister, and I. My parents had recently gotten a divorce and it fell to my mom to support two kids all on her own. She would work tirelessly all day, most of the time only seeing us at bedtime, I remember resenting the fact she was
Even though I clearly remember all the sanity me and my little family went through. I never wanted them to know their mother just up and disappear on them. I took a deep breath and was about ready to tell them the whole truth. They already knew too much. But right before I could speak, I became suddenly unspoken-less. They gave me this look, not a look of sadness, more like a look of pride and honor. They both huddle close to me and gave me a hug. The words that came from their mouths next. I 'll never forget
Sometimes it just takes one event to forever change your outlook on life. One such event happened to me when I was only 5 years old. My day started out as most 5yr olds growing up in the south in the late 60’s, only I was a bit different because unlike my neighborhood friends, my mom was 55yrs old. My mother gave birth to me when she was 50 years old and I was the youngest of 8 children, most of which were grown with children of their own when I came along. My mother spoiled me rotten, she was very attentive to my every demand. And I mostly demanded cereal, Rice Krispies only! My mother wasn’t very playful with me (what 55yr old would be?) but I felt her love. She would not let me out of her sight, she was always there, until one day she wasn’t. I woke up that morning in my mother’s bed as I often did, and I shook her to wake her up as I always did, only this time the shaking wasn’t working. I remember yelling for my siblings to come wake mommy up, I needed my Rice Krispies! Only instead of waking her up they began yelling and screaming and calling people on the phone. What’s going on? It’s not that serious, just get mommy up! I saw men in white shirts running into the house and then leaving with my mother on a stretcher. I didn’t
When I was younger, I had friends, but I was the person who did not want to dance at birthday parties. I was someone who enjoyed talking to the lunch moms instead of playing on the playground. I was shy and my mom handled everything for me. Until now, I did not know how much work went into raising me. I never knew that there were deadlines to paying bills or that appointments had to be made in advance, but everything changed one morning when I woke up to the blaring sound of my mom’s alarm. I was confused because she was a light sleeper, and I became anxious. I ran into her room, and immediately I knew something was wrong. The death of my mother during the first month of my eighth grade year, as a single event, did not instantly mark my transition to adulthood, but it did change my life forever. My mother died before she was able to watch me graduate middle school, before she was able to teach me how to drive, and before she was able to share all of her wisdom. Her death was the most painful experience I have ever encountered, but I was lucky enough
At the age of 11, my parents decided to reunite, and this became my lifelong struggle with trust, mistrust and development of strength and courage to achieve my dreams and goals in life. My mother continued to work long, hard hours while my father golfed, gambled and drank, to what most people would consider “the extreme”. During my school years, I ran our household while my mom worked. I made sure the house was clean and dinner was always on the table for my father, which left no time for a social life. My dad was abusive towards my mom and I would feel helpless as I listened from my room to him physically and mentally abusing her. After many years of not having the courage to help her, I finally at the age of 16 gave her an ultimatum. Either she leaves the abusive relationship or I would leave, so I would not have to endear the pain of it any longer.