Losing My Father

The biggest memories that come to me are going to church in my hometown. Every Sunday was a special schedule. I got to wear my best clothes of the week, which was usually a dress, long socks, and a bow for my hair. Once my whole family was ready we would walk to church. On our way, my mom would often stop and talk to neighbors. Sometimes I would have to remind her that we were going to church or tell her that we were going to be late. Mass was an hour or so. After mass, my mom and dad would give me money to buy an ice cream or junk food. When I finished my ice cream, we would walk home with neighbors who lived on the same street. Walking home everybody would talk about how beautiful the ceremony was and how well the priest explained the Gospel. I loved the sense I was given by my neighbors. Comforting and belonging is what I felt when I was around them. McClay and McAllister refer to this as “anchor our memories in something more substantial than our thoughts and emotions,” which is my hometown connecting me back to my neighbors at my

One memory that vividly sticks out in my mind from my childhood was that special summer when my parents told me we were going on a trip to Disney World. It was in June of 2001 and I was twelve years old. My parents planned the trip six months in advance. As a child, it seemed as if the time would never come. When it finally came time to pack and leave, I felt eager and excited. The night before our departure, I could not sleep at all. My most memorable childhood experience is of going to Walt Disney World with my family and having a great time.Vacations with the family were always joyous.

Something in my stomach was telling me I would not see him. I did not tell anyone this though just in case I was wrong. But I was right I always have a way of knowing these things. He heard a knock on the door. A feeling of relief washed over everyone except me. The person at the door was the only policeman in town and Frank the town leader. My mom could not keep it together. It is a hard sight to see when your mom is sad. The person you look up to when you are a kid is crying. That can mess a 6 year old kid up. The time that would take place next went from 0 to 100 so fast. We cremated my dad's body and moved. My mom picked texas because it had good schools. We did not have any family though and sometimes I felt as if that was a bad decision. My mother would not tell me how my dad died until I was 16. Not living without a dad can be hard. When it is at the crucial age of 6. You need a good role model. My brother became my dad if he liked it or not. Everything that happened in my life seemed like a blurr. The fact my dad was dead never really hit me. But it hit me so hard and so fast. It was like a brick wall. I started almost failing my classes, sleeping all the time, eating a lot, not exercising, moping all the time. I still suffer from it today. Back then though I wanted to die. But it is so much better. I learned that I held my mom accountable and my dad for

When I was 11 years old, my father died. Not knowing what to do with that reality and the emotions that came with it, I turned to my mother. My mother has always been my rock, so I was confident that she would put this entire situation into perspective. She explained to me how my dad had been sick for a while, and how god did not want to see him suffer any longer, so he called my father home. When I attended the funeral, it occurred to me that this would be the last time I would see my father. As the time of grieving progressed, I grew unmotivated, uninterested, and depressed. In middle school, I joined an after school program called Teen Hype. Teen Hypes's goal was to empower youth to be their very best self. After joining this program, my

Everyone had wonderful things to say, but they all seemed empty, superficial. No one wanted to mention that we would never get to see him grow into the chubby toddler he could have been, or see his first steps. He would never get a first love, or a last. I felt my heart tighten in my chest as I looked upon him. My sister grabbed my hand then, and squeezed it. I felt my eyes water and threaten to flow over with tears. I promised myself I would not cry, that I would eventually see him again. I guess that is the error of humanity though, to only comprehend the immediate pain, if we ever do at

When I got my family was around our wooden table. My dad on his soft voice said “ I don’t think your grandpa will go through one more night, you need to call him” he cried. I felt like I couldn’t do it, felt so week and a huge hole in my stomach, something I’ve never felt before, I grabbed the phone and when I was about to call, the phone ringed, I passed the phone to my dad, It was my aunt sobbing and barely able to speak, then she said “ he passed away, I’m sorry honey” I couldn’t believe it I didn’t even had the chance to say

Death is an ending that everyone has to endure. I was in the concrete operations stage of cognitive development when I have had encountered my papa’s and uncle’s death. Unlike the story when listened to when the young boy was in the pre-operations, I fully understood the concept of death (Hill). When I was in 7th grade, I lost my papa in a week span of developing Emphyasema. When I was that age, I understood that my papa was sick and that his wishes were to never be on life support. My family followed his wishes. I remember there being our priest being there but I was not sure why he would be there since my papa did not believe in going to church. I noticed many relationships among my family change after my papa’s death. I remember seeing how

I once again got over his death just like I did Uncle Jerod and Great Grandpa. I started focusing on the positives of their lives. In a small town like mine, word goes around very quickly about deaths. I am used to hearing “Sorry about your death.”. It was just something that I got used to, I also learned how to tense myself up as well. I learned how to really mourn for someone, not by crying but to tell others about what they really loved and the happy moments you had for one

That is one day I will never forget. Besides the fact that it was a funeral, the day went perfect. The visitation started at 10 AM, and that’s when I got to truly see how many lives my dad touched. The church was so packed, they had a line still outside, and they had to close the doors right at 11 to start the service. The church has two overflow rooms, and both of them were full. People were standing outside the foyer in the lobby just listening. It was amazing. Turning 54 just five days before his death, my dad had touched hundreds of lives. He’s the man I want to be, and there isn’t a minute that goes by that I don’t think of him. That is the moment who has made me who I am today, and the man I am working towards to

Favorite memory as a child well the one I cherish is meeting my real mom for the first time. I may not have been the best towards her but in my defense she left me when I was 1. I remember sitting on her lap coloring with my little brother in a

Some of my favorite moments with my grandfather were how we always did everything together. I was glad I lived with my grandparents. Stuff with my actual family weren’t the best, because they thought they couldn’t handle me. My grandfather and I had so much fun throughout the years. We enjoyed going for ice cream the most. We always had the same ice cream every once in a while, but occasionally we would change it up a little. We usually grabbed chocolate ice cream for a treat, but sometimes we would decide we want a twist ice cream. I loved spending time with my grandfather.

I have an abundance of grotesque, yet, barely visible memories of childhood. However, no breathtaking family trips, no unique family togetherness that taught a moral lesson, no abnormal holidays. We still ate family meals together, but most often the children and adults lived in different worlds. When I needed comforting or wanted the best of both worlds, I could turn to my Grandpa.

Once, in the first week following his passing, I came through my front door and looked at the area where he would usually be sitting or lying. I called for him with the foolish notation that he would appear and come running to me. But of course, he did not. Then, I walked past his empty food bowls and tears started running down my face. It was a shattering reminder that he was gone and never coming back.

Another lash. My back bled, but by now I could not even feel the pain… a cold numbness stole over my limbs. The memories burned like icy fire, and I promised myself right then and there that I would never repeat my actions.. I would keep my head down… I would die, lost and forgotten, like I was supposed to.

My most memorable childhood event was when I was 15 years old. It was the Fourth of July. A big family vacation a barbeque, over night stay and out of town trip to six flags, and I had a blast the night before me, my mom, sisters and brother packed our bags to stay the night over my cousin house in Goodlettsville ,Tennessee. She had the biggest house ever I thought it was a mansion; six bedrooms two an half bath, a swimming pool, a game/movie room with a nice big kitchen. It was something that I was not use, knowing that we stayed in a three bedroom based on an income apartment on the East side of Nashville.