6 word Memoir Jumped over 14 walls blinded everytime. But the next time i’ll be jumping with my eyes wide open. So much has happened in my life i’ve been threw so many things, and if i said them all we would be here for weeks so i’m gonna shorten it to the most dramatic heart breaking moment of my life. Losing my Father in the process of losing him i lost myself i lost Lauryn she was nothing but a hollow shell roaming the earth. “I'm sorry sweetie he’s gone” my mother says on Monday, September 10, 2012 at 11:32pm. I could feel my heart shatter into billion of pieces I could feel this deep pain in my heart. But what I didn't know was how long this pain was gonna last and the effect it had on me. I remember the next day I went to school trying to be brave but as soon as I got to my classroom I fell to my knees and began to sob in the doorway. Within a week of telling my friends my dad had died there were rumors flying the hallways. He was shot, he was a junkie, he was in a car crash he didn't die he just went to prison,he was probably killed by her mom. There’s plenty …show more content…
He was a kind and loving man, but people never treated him right I never realized it till this year. ( 2016) This caused me to write a letter to my father apologizing to him for taking him for granted, and apologizing on behalf of the others who didn't realize they took him for granted. I loved my father I had a better relationship with him then I did with my mother. I'm a religious person and on the day my dad died I had a dream that he was an angel and he had wings and he was walking in a cloud with a smile on his face. I realized that was his way of telling me goodbye, but i didn’t realize he was saying goodbye. My dad always used to get mad if I would say goodbye, so he would tell me to say “see you later”. I never realized how much a goodbye could hurt a
By the time I got home, my brother had already arrived and was enthusiastically recounting the day’s events to my mom, who had obviously been crying. When he finally stopped carrying on, my mom told me to sit down and then she told me. I will never forget her exact words or even the way she said them. “Megan committed suicide today.” I stared blankly at her, I knew she had to be lying, she had to be wrong, Megan would never do that. We had been too good of friends for too long, I knew her too well. Megan was always happy, she always had a joke to tell. She had such a bright future, she was an excellent athlete and it seemed as though she succeeded in everything she tried.
“The day that I found out about my mother, I was at school,” he said, “I remember I was on the playground. Somebody came up and said ‘you’re laughing, huh?’ from behind the gate. ‘Your mother is dead.’ The man said.
I do not have any memories of my own father as a child. I met him when I was about fourteen years old. My mother and grandmother, with the help of my uncles and aunt, raised me. Although I had strong positive male role models in my life, there was always the void of my father that I dealt with on a daily basis. I can remember at a young age, before blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, I would wish that my father would show up to my party. I had elaborate daydreams of him coming back into my life and doing things with me like I saw on television. It never happened. While walking to the train station one evening my uncle casually said to me “there’s your father” as if I saw him on an everyday basis. I didn’t...
At 10, I never knew whether my father would be sober, reasonable, even pleasant - or drunk, argumentative and abusive. On one February day with four inches of snow on the ground and a freezing rain falling, I was walking home from my cousin's house in the early evening and saw my father lying on the soggy, snow-covered sidewalk. I didn't know what my father would do if I roused him, and I was afraid to find out. Perhaps, subconsciously, I hoped my father wouldn't waken at all. I continued on, did nothing, said nothing. This I will remember with guilt for the rest of my life.
I can remember going to school and him being very judgmental towards others and telling us “to watch who our friends where” which was his way of saying make sure you are only friends with your own culture. I can remember wanting to be friends with those who were different from me in grade school however because of my father I felt that I couldn’t because I was disobeying him. One event in particular was in the third grade when a African American student moved into town and the home room teacher paired us together to be study partners all year. It was something I hated for the longest time most of the time I spent putting him down or not helping he at all and only worrying about myself because being as senseless as I was then in my own messed up reality I thought I was acting how I should. Finally one day came when I set back and thought why do I not like this kid he’s done nothing to me yet I have treated him horribly since day one. I remember coming to the realization that this kid is not bad he’s not out to get me and just because he’s different doesn’t mean he just be looked at or treated any differently then how I am or how I treat any of my other
I can still remember that small enclosed, claustrophobic room containing two armed chairs and an old, brown, paisley print couch my dad and I were sitting on when he told me. “The doctors said there was little to no chance that your mother is going to make it through this surgery.” Distressed, I didn’t know what to think; I could hardly comprehend those words. And now I was supposed to just say goodbye? As I exited that small room, my father directed me down the hospital hallway where I saw my mother in the hospital bed. She was unconscious with tubes entering her throat and nose keeping her alive. I embraced her immobile body for what felt like forever and told her “I love you” for what I believed was the last time. I thought of how horrific it was seeing my mother that way, how close we were, how my life was going to be without her, and how my little sisters were clueless about what was going on. After saying my farewells, I was brought downstairs to the hospital’s coffee shop where a million things were running
When I walked inside the front door something didn’t seem right. The feeling of sorrow overwhelmed the house. It was so thick I could literally feel it in the air. Everyone was motionless. They were sulking;I was befuddled. The most energetic people in the world, doing absolutely nothing. I repeatedly asked them what was wrong. After an hour or so, my dad pulled me aside. He said that my Aunt Feli had passed away last night. My mind went for a loop, I was so confused. I thought that he was joking, so I replied “You’re lying, don’t mess with me like that.” and punched his shoulder softly while I chuckled. My dad quickly started tearing up and said, “There...
This could just be the worst day of my life; I’ve been dreading this day for the past few months. Moving day; it was just five months ago when my family told me the awful news. I just recently finished my sophomore year in high school, became captain of the varsity basketball team and finally got the girl of my dreams, Julie. Only to have it ruined by my parents telling me that we have to move due to my father getting a new job in Astoria, Oregon. The house or ‘cemetery’ as I referred to it is called Mors Thalamum, which ironically means death chamber in Latin; how convenient I would jest my family in hopes they would change their minds. Before we had to get into the car and leave for what I though would be certain doom I walked over to Julie’s house which was right across the street. “Hey Julie” I said for what would feel like the last time, “Hey Ben” she said, I believe she was feeling the exact thing I was. “I came to say goodbye, my family and I are leaving soon.” “Oh” she said simply but her green eyes said what she couldn’t. “Ben lets go!” I groaned at my father demand. Just as I was turning around Julie called my name, “I’ll miss you Ben” “Ill miss you too Julie” I choked back too focused on trying to hide the tears in my brown eyes. “Do you think we will ever see each other again?” she asked with anticipation in her angelic yet worried voice, “I hope” was all I could say before I turned and left my blonde green-eyed girl for what felt would be the last time.
All my life I have met many people who have left an impact on my life whether it be in sports, work, extracurriculars, or even just meeting someone you don’t know.
My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.
When I was a wee child, I always remembered watching reality, singing shows like American Idol and X-Factor and wondering if one day, could I ever possibly meet these celebrities or singers? Heretofore, who would have ever to predict that I met a renowned singer on American idol sooner than imagined? This miraculous moment occurred during the summer of 2016 when I was shopping at Target. For a few months before June, my father planned a summer, camping trip for my family to travel along with other families in our catholic church community. All of the members in my family, which includes my father and younger sister, who was going for this 3 day camp-out trip packed and organized everything but me. Therefore, I must gather some last-minute items like the usual late bird I am.
It was April 22nd 2014, and it started out like any other day. I had just hopped into bed with my mother like I usually do after I woke up on school days, only to find her solemn and hear her say, “Debbie, Ethan was shot last night and was found dead at the scene”. I remember laying in bed and letting those words sink in- trying to fully grasp how this would alter my life and community. The words that my mother spoke quickly shook my world up like a snowglobe, and it took a while to settle back down. Ethan was a family friend, one I had known for the majority of his short life on this earth.
It seemed like a normal day when I entered Mrs. A’s AP Language and Composition class, but little did I know that she was going to assign a very important project that was going to take forever. I took my seat and wrote down what was on the board. Then I sat patiently and waited for Mrs. A to come explain what we were doing today. When the tardy bell rang, Mrs. A glided into the room and gave us all a stack of papers. She then proceeded to discuss our upcoming assignment, a memoir. As she explained the very important assignment, I wondered whom I would write about. No one really came to mind to write about and I thought for sure I would never be able to get this thing done on time. I finally decided that I would write in on my mother, Kari Jenson. I knew I would probably put the project off until the very end and do it the weekend before even though it would get on my mom’s nerves. Putting work off was just how I did everything, it worked for me. When I arrived home from school that day, I told mom about the project. I told her I would most likely write it about her and she was overjoyed.
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...
I’ll never forget March 10, 2007 the day was the perfect temperature the sun was warm and shining so bright like bright rays coming from heaven. I woke up that, morning around 7:30 a.m. got my kids dressed not knowing that the death angel had plans to turn my bright and great day into a dark day. I’ll never forget or dislike as long as I had breath in my body. I had been staying in a hotel, because my lights were off, the lady I worked for paid my light bill with a bad check, so therefore we stayed at the Motel 6. Later that night my father had called me around 6:30 p.m., he had sadness and urgently in his voice, but only asked for my sister number he was out of town on business and wasn’t due to come back until Monday. After he got my sister