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Personal essay death of parent
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A Fostered Plan “It came from the fog…” A newspaper article explaining the death of my parents. Five years ago, I came home from Girl Scout camp, to find my parents died in a supposed murder. Not being told the details, I knew that I did not have any family to take custody of me, so I would be put into foster care. After three years of bouncing from house to house, I was finally paired with a family who was willing to take me permanently into their home. I attempted to let go the mystery of my parents’ death, and started looking forward. Anyway, the newspaper article came out of nowhere. I was cleaning the attic, going through my adoptive parents past, when I read a newspaper dated the day after my parents death, well, their supposed death.
In todays’ society many Americans never think about our foster care system. Foster care is when a child is temporarily placed with another family. This child may have been abused, neglected, or may be a child who is dependent and can survive on their own but needs a place to stay. Normally the child parents are sick, alcohol or drug abusers, or may even be homeless themselves. We have forgotten about the thousands of children who are without families and living in foster homes. Many do not even know how foster care came about. A few of the earliest documentation of foster care can be found in the Old Testament. The Christian church put children into homes with widowers and then paid them using collection from the church congregation. The system that the church had in place was actually successful, and was continued to be used until English Poor Law eventually regulated family foster care in the U.S.
“Wait! I know this sounds insane, but I saw your father’s obituary in the newspaper. I believe he was my father as well. In the letter my mother wrote to me before she
Until the twenty-second of March, I thought my parents were happy with each other and that they would be together for the rest of their lives, but that was not the case. I was given no reason to suspect that anything bad was occurring, but when I came home from school that day everything was revealed. My father told me that he had been wanting to speak to me alone. He looked fearful and bit anxious. I knew this conversation was going to be different from every other talk we have had. He started off with, “Please just listen and give me a chance to explain myself before you judge me.” I had nodded
My family has been a foster home since the middle of my eighth grade year. We hadn’t had kids until everything changed October 30, 2012, my freshman year of high school. It was a regular school day, everyone talking about their Halloween plans, what parties they were going to, and who was "too old" to trick or treat. I was sitting in my dreadful World History class when I got a text message from my mother saying, "Call me as soon as you can.”
The afternoon my parents found out about my wrongdoing, they caught at the front door and made me kneel listening to them. I was sweating and tired from long hours of gaming and biking. I did not remember any of their words anything until fainting. The floor, wall, and celling mixed together, and my vision darkened. I heard my fast-paced breath and felt my heart throbbing like about to explode. Moreover, echoed in my head, my mom's and dad's panicking voices as they dragged me into bed and fetched me some milk.
A child’s background and home life can have an influence on their cognitive and emotional well being. Children learn from teachings, but also from example and watching others. Therefore, what they see in their parents, concerning actions and words, could be what they eventually do and say in their own lives. Children with stable homes and long – lasting relationships are more likely to have better cognitive and social – emotional development, than those who are moving from home to home or live in an unstable home environment. Most of the time children in the foster care system are taken out of unstable homes, but they may not stay in one foster home all their childhood. Young children in foster care are most likely going to fall behind in their cognitive development and social – emotional functioning compared to children in stable home environments.
It was the late August around 2005. I remembered that there were two people came into the house with luggage. I did not have clear images of them, but I believed that it was something that deepened in my bone that told me they were my parents. I thought I could live happily with them but one day, my father took me to a man’s house. The man offered me candies while talking to my father. Although I was a child, I sensed something terrible and I was right. My father left me with the man’s family. I realized that my father was attempting to sell me. The man closed the door and tried to prevent me from escaping. I screamed and cried out loud. “Father, Mother, Grandma, where are you guys? Don’t leave me alone! I do not know them.” I was desperate. I was amazed by how much power I used to push the man and his
I stood on the firm sidewalk with a pink suitcase in my hands. Puzzled, I stared at the beautiful, white, house in front of me. Large windows and a big front porch stared at me. I was completely afraid of what was about to happen to my seemingly perfect life. I remember standing there, feeling as if my body was frozen. I couldn’t seem to pick my feet up and join my mom and dad at the front porch. I saw my mom wave at me to come inside. As I start to walk, I remember seeing my two brothers come out of the car, as well as, two other familiar faces. Everything at this point didn’t make much sense to me, but I just did as I was told and walked. I meet my brothers and two cousins at the door. My mom is smiling from ear-to-ear. All I could think
It was January 2002. I was walking home from Newton Street School. I heard loud strikes of thunder, I saw the grayish black sky above me, and I felt my heart coming through my shirt. As we scampered home my mom looked down at me and said, “Baby you know that I love you no matter what, right?” I was just 5 years old so I was clueless to what exactly was going on. I nodded my head in uncertainty and told my mother I loved her more. Just as we arrived to my house located on Bedford Street, my mom began to cry. “Mommy what’s wrong? “ I asked. She just mourned the entire time. I followed my mother into the living room until I came across 2 large suitcases centered on the dining room floor with my favorite teddy bear sitting next to them. I began
Saturday, April 5th, 2014 at 7:30 was when I discovered my mom, dead. Most horrifying image ever; her cold, lifeless body just lying on the floor. She had been there for some time; she was so cold and blue. She had an imprint of the crack in the hard floor accost her face. My Mom had sleep apnea. Doctor told her to use a machine for it, but it’s so loud and uncomfortable for her; so she never used it. That day began like every other day; it was the Friday morning last day of school before spring break. Exited for spring break. We planned to go down to California to visit our grandparents. My brothers and sisters and I all woke up at 6. Got our clothes packed and things we all wanted to bring. It was around 7:20 when I went upstairs to check and see if she was up and ready to leave in 30 minutes.
I gazed out the airport window as I waved my final adieu to my parents. They were off to the states to find a better job, while I was left off with the biggest responsibility of my life—to handle things around the house while they were away. As I watched the plane depart into the sky, tears began to roll down my cheeks, nerve signals began to flow through my brain letting me notice instantly the smell of peoples perfume, the whirring of the air conditioner, the chatter of the crowd as they waved and kissed their loved ones goodbye, the rollers on people’s luggage dragging along the shiny floors…everything around was exaggerating. I didn’t know when my parent’s would be coming back, but knowing they trusted me, I had to show them that I could handle things while they were away. It seemed like yesterday when I had no reason to care in the world but myself, and now, I realized I could show my parents that what they thought about me was not true, that I could handle any situation that was given to me wherever I am. That very moment, I knew I was alone. No family or friends to rely on, bu...
It’s three o’clock on a brisk fall afternoon on November 3, 2010. I walk into my kitchen and see my mom on the phone. Her face is pale with terror, as if she had seen a ghost. She drops the phone on the tile floor and says with a panicked face, “Get your sister and go to the car”. I follow her as she grabs a sweater and car keys, frantically asking her what is going on. As we are on the highway, I look to my left, seeing tears streaming down her face as her fragile, shaking hands hold a rosary. She keeps muttering “Please don’t let me lose my father today”.
I woke up on a normal fall Saturday in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky in a town called Harlan County. Just coming home to my mother’s home from my father’s house the night before. It was a typical Saturday off of school my brother, sister and I were outside playing on our bicycles when we heard my mother scream from the front porch for us to come
.... At that moment the inevitable happened, I heard my father raise his voice as did my mother. They argued for what seemed like a lifetime; the topic of the conversation remaining unknown to me. Seconds later a door slammed and someone came storming up the staircase. I held my breath and gripped the duvet tightly around me in fear. There was a gentle knock on my door and the distant sound of my mother’s shaky voice. “Goodnight Viola. Sleep well my fallen angel.” My heart dropped as she walked away, it was obvious she had been trying hard not to cry and now I was doing the same. I relaxed a little more and brought my head from under the duvet, luckily tonight my parents fighting hadn’t gotten to the point of physical violence. I waited until both my parents had gone to bed and finally let myself drop into a broken and tormented sleep. A little freedom until tomorrow.
I finally managed to conjure some courage and unglue myself from the bed. I sat there for a couple of seconds and listened. All I could hear was indistinct voices, and sounds behind my bedroom door. I finally managed to stand up, feeling the frozen concrete floor rushing into my bare feet. I could see my sister’s shadow from the bottom of the door, tracing her every step, but I was too afraid to see beyond the safety of my room. I felt like the walls were getting crushed by the colossal weight of that mountain; but still all I could do was linger there, scared to death. I heard her a third time but only this time it was echoed my father. “What’s wrong?”, he said trying to force the last bit of breath he had out of him.