“Oh no, please, I’m sorry I’m trying to get to the hospital, my mother is dying,” my mom, Lois, explained frantically to the police. “Ok, I’ll let you off with a warning” the officer replied calmly. He then strolled to his car as my mom drove off; the tears came down like a waterfall. I was sure that this moment would scar me forever. My mom was always there for me when I cried and when I was hurt, strong and comforting all at the same time. Her voice always soft and soothing, letting me know that everything was alright. But not at this moment, the mother that I had known was no longer there. I began to feel insecure like a lost puppy in the rain.
I’ve always hated hospitals, the strong smell of urine and doctor soap filled my nostrils, so overwhelming it made me sick. I automatically knew which room was hers; I saw family gathered around as my dad whispered into the ear of my grandmother. I heard him say something about getting surgery or she might die. She shook her head no and refused. There were tubes everywhere, all through her. I could see tears running down my grandmothers eyes through those tubes. That’s when I finally began to cry. I couldn’t handle knowing that my grandmother was just as afraid as I was, or more. Just as I started to relax a little my grandmother let out a sound I will never forget. The gagging and heaving made me turn to the exit and close my ears as I cried. While the rest, ran to her side.
Over the next couple of days I visited her, wrote her letters, and prayed to god. I was really beginning to think everything was alright. I believed that god would keep her here, and that he wouldn’t let this happen to my family.
One morning, I was feeling pretty good, like there was hope. The doctor said she was ok, and I believed him. I looked around my room at my bright green walls that always made me feel alright. I could see the sunshine shinning through the blinds. I was warm under my soft suede turquoise covers. I embraced the moment, as if taking a breath of fresh air on a nice, spring day. I was interrupted by the opening of my door, it was my dad. “Your grandmother died” he spit out, with almost no sympathy it seemed. I sat up in shock, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t really sure how to feel. I didn’t cry all day, I even laughed a little. The next day I was brought back to reality and the crying was none stop. My aunt Danita came by to show her sympathy, she took me outside with her and spoke a few words of her wisdom to me. I can’t remember exactly what she said to me but it made me feel a lot better. It made me realize that I shouldn’t drone in my sorrow, I have to move on in life. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting my grandmother. I went on to share this with my mom. I told her “Mom you can’t be sad all the time and dwell on it, it’s not fair to the rest of the family.” My mom told me my words changed her views for the better. I believe that the bad things in life can change you for the better. Now, since the passing of my grandmother, I can get through things better. I can be more positive and share my optimism with others. And that makes me feel good about myself.
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