The Day My Life Changed Forever The story that I 'm about to tell is a tragedy, to say at the least. It will be a hard story to tell. I 'm going to tell you about my father and his struggle with cancer. Let me start by saying that my father was an amazing man. He was the kind of man that you felt privileged to have known. My father was your typical small town southern man. His life revolved around Jesus, work, and his family. I believe that it is true when people say “Only the good die young”. Nothing could have prepared my family and I for the things we witnessed during my father 's battle with that ugly disease. It started when my father was 18 years old. He was diagnosed with bone cancer in his leg. Doctors were positive that they could …show more content…
All of our family visited frequently. I don 't remember much at this point because I was numb. I didn 't want to believe that my father was going to die. My father, being the stubborn man that he could be, proved his doctors wrong. They all told us he only had days left to live. He lived for 3 more months. His hospice nurse said she would never underestimate my father again. On February 2nd,2011, my father passed away. It was 3 pm on a Wednesday. My mom, my grandma, my bother and my aunt were all out in our garage talking. My father was in his hospital bed resting. I was giving our dog a bath. My grandma told my mother that she had a headache and asked for Advil. My mother said she needed to check on my dad anyway and went to get her some Advil out of their bedroom. She put her hand on my father 's chest and there was no heartbeat. My mother started screaming. We all ran to see what was wrong to find my mother with her head on my father 's chest. She was crying saying “there is no heartbeat” over and over again. I couldn 't even cry. I was in so much shock and I needed to be strong for my poor mother. I think my brother knew that he needed to do the same for my mother and I. He looked at me, went over to my mother and pulled her away from his body. He said “That isn 't him anymore, mom. He doesn 't have to suffer
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
I received the call that my brother had overdosed when I was going to a haunted house with a couple of my friends. My mother had not known the severity and told me not to worry. Steven had overdosed in the past so I was not as concerned as I should have been. My friends and I kept on with our festivities and then they dropped me off at my house. There was no one home and I became distressed. When I called my mother she told me to just go to bed and that they would be home soon. I forced myself to sleep. I was in a daze when my mother and father came into my room to tell me that my brother was dead. I don’t know what happened in my brain, but I could not talk and I could not cry. I believe I brushed it off as an awful nightmare. My unconscious demeanor scared my parents so they kept sending people in my room trying to get through to me. I woke up to my best friend hugging me, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke up to my grandma holding my hand with tears flowing down her eyes, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke to my godmother speaking about grief and how I needed to believe that he was gone, and then she left. How was I supposed to believe that my brother was no longer on this earth? I sat there on my bed alone as the idea of my brother dying crept into my mind. My heart began to literally ache. I cried hysterically for hours on hours. It has been a year since he has passed and it doesn’t get any
I figured someone had passed away, but I didn't think much of it. My father spoke to me in a very calm and soft voice with tears in his eyes. In between his words you could hear the hurt. He told me that my godmother had passed away. I sat there not knowing what to say, but could feel the hurt overwhelm me.
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...
When I was 4 years old my grandpa, on my dad’s side of the family, passed away. He had colon cancer which had spread to his liver. At the time I did not understand what had happened, but as I grew older I started to understand that life is temporary and should be treasured by everyone. I still miss my grandpa and would give any...
Imagine having to wake up each day wondering if that day will be the last time you see or speak to your father. Individuals should really find a way to recognize that nothing in life is guaranteed and that they should live every day like it could be there last. This is the story of my father’s battle with cancer and the toll it took on himself and everyone close to him. My father was very young when he was first diagnosed with cancer. Lately, his current health situation is much different than what it was just a few months ago. Nobody was ready for what was about to happen to my dad, and I was not ready to take on so many new responsibilities at such an adolescent age. I quickly learned to look at life much differently than I had. Your roles change when you have a parent who is sick. You suddenly become the caregiver to them, not the other way around.
Eulogy There are times even now, when I awake to the sound of my father's voice and the unyielding calls of the restless ocean. When my mind is filled with the galumphing of his rubber boots, the unceasing sound of pages turning, and the burning scent of cigarettes. However, in these moments I am reminded that “no boat rides restlessly the waters of the pier” ( MacLeod, 1) and no man waits at the foot of the stairs. We gather here to today in grief and remembrance of my father.
I know she heard us but she never opened her eyes again until that last moment, she opened her eyes one last night and my grandma told my great grandma “it’s okay mama go ahead daddy’s waiting for you I love you” that was when she took her last breath. It was July 29th around 3am when my dad came in my room and told me “Haley I’m going to the hospital grandma is gone.” At first I just said okay I was in a dead sleep so I didn’t comprehend it in that exact moment. A few minutes later I got out of bed I heard my brother pull in the drive way he left work early to come home and he and I sat and looked though pictures together shedding tears and laughing and asking each other if we remembered this. We all went up my great grandma’s house where all the family gathered about an hour and a half later. Even then I was fine it wasn’t until my grandma walked in the door which is my great grandmas daughter as soon as she did she just sat in my great grandmas’ chair and stated sobbing and that’s when it hit me that she was really gone this wasn’t just some dream it was real. I could taste salt from my tears running down my face into my mouth. After that it was all a complete
I cried in my room for hours wishing my dad would not go, a whole month without him seemed like the end of the world. I would have no one to play hockey with, no one to tuck me in at night and no one to eat donuts with every Friday. My dad tried to console me but I was too angry to listen to him, I suddenly hated my grandpa for causing my dad to leave me alone. At the airport my dad gave me a long hug and told me to be brave since I was now “the man of the house,” (even though I am a girl), I had to take care of my mom. Promptly this made me suck in my tears and stop acting like a “loser.” It was hard repressing my feelings, seeing my dad leave made my eyes tear severely but I held them back, the man of the house does not cry. Time went by faster when I was at school, I had less time to miss my dad. About two weeks later, my mom got a call from India, my grandpa had died. My mom broke down crying, she slammed the phone across the room into the wall. I felt scared to appr...
An event that not just changed my life, but as well as my father was his journey to sobriety. As a child, I always noticed something different about my dad. His physical appearance showed a man high with a beer in his hand and slurring his words. I knew Inside that this couldn 't be a person,but a lost soul, a person so bitter about the miserable past in which he couldn 't forget.My father 's life began in the Bronx. Boring into an Irish household where his 2 parents were always on the run, food had always was a question if going to be had, and drugs and alcohol were always in sight.
I showed up at the hospital about thirty minutes later. I was so scared and did not know what to expect. I did not know if my father was dead, ...
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.
My home growing up was filled with creative people. My dad has always been immensely talented. He was good at nearly every artistic endeavor he pursued. He sat me down when I was about 3 or 4 and taught me to braid on my little pony dolls. Not just any braids but fish bone, french, and various other styles. He could make wall size rugs from knots and braids. I have seen clay sculptures he made that seem like they would take years of training to accomplish. Music always surrounded him, he must be the only grandfather who will listen to any music. You would never hear him say that music now a days is crap compared to what it used to be. He has made simple bracelets to large steel buildings. His schematics of what he is going to build are always so precise and intriguing. He drew a pencil schematic of a boat seat for his boat he wanted to make that I wanted to frame and hang on my wall. He used fabric paint to make my brothers and me shirts when we were little, I wish I still had one to show you. The list goes on and on. Draw, paint, sculpt, construct, botany there is nothing that I have seen him attempt that he didn't do well. The sad part is no one will ever know outside his family, including himself, that these talents are in him. He has always been depressed.
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...
Everyone has that one person in their life has influenced to be who they are. Some weren’t meant to be looked up to, still somehow that person shaped them to be who they are today. It could be anyone, a friend, teacher, most of the time a parent. A parent that has influenced their child would be a hard parent, who disciplined and showed the real world to their kid, for what it really is. In hopes that their kid will survive the real world and pass on their knowledge to their kids and their children and so on.