Personal Narrative: My Father's Death

I wait at the door. I put on my solemn, grim face, I cannot let these children see me as a soft women. I am anything but that, well I guess I am, but we all need to hide our inner emotions some how. My useless husband, Hans, mumbles, “I see the car”. We step outside, most people think Hans and I are crazy for opening our home to these two children, but every little bit of money that we can earn helps. Plus, they can help with the laundry, I think and smile.

He says he’s doing this to himself to try and punish himself the way he punished me. I wish I could tell him that I forgive him, and that it’s not his fault. Part of me is still angry, but not at him. I wanted to live to see my grandchildren graduate pre-school. At least I lived as much as I could when I was alive, but the thought of getting to live to see more, never relents to haunt me. I want nothing more than for my family to forgive him, not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because they deserve to be set free. I see the way they punish themselves, they think maybe if they would have checked on me more than it wouldn’t have happened, but truth is, there’s nobody here to blame. I have forgiven him, and they should too. Holding onto to anger only hurts them, I wish I was there to tell them. If I could go back and say anything, to the man that killed me, I would say to forgive themselves, that he was acting according to circumstances that were out of his control. I would tell my children to forgive him because he couldn’t prevent it and that I have forgiven

Then they went away for the weekend, mom and dad, and things got bad, real bad. I thought things were bad before, but that weekend was hell. My parents arrived home to flashing blue and red lights and me crying on the doorstep; all cuts and bruises and torn clothes and him being bundled into the back of a police car.

My father committed suicide after the 2008 financial crisis. He felt that the lump sum of money from his life insurance would mean we would not have to bear the weight of his debts. This left my mother to pay off what was left and raise four children (two of whom were in constant legal trouble). She put one of my brothers through flight school (costing tens of thousands of dollars). She then put my other brother through a masseuse school. She's also co-signed cars for my brother and sister meaning unknown future costs could be devastating. Worst of all though is my medical issues. Starting in middle school I experienced constant violent vomiting which even to this day affects me. It forced me to drop out and then complete highschool in three

When I walked back into the apartment, Dennis had a knife in his hand. He grabbed me with one arm has he held the knife in his other hand. I cried begging him not to kill me. He said he was going to kill us both.

He hurt me, beat me, threatened me and pretended to be docile around my family. I stuck up for him though, I was too close to IT to let him go. Home became an impossible place for me to reside, mostly because IT lived right ‘there,’ and he wasn’t someone that could be arrested for the physical and emotional torture he forced upon me. I didn’t want to leave him, despite how awful he was to me, for I loved him and would do whatever I could in order to never let him go. So, with that, I was sent away, not him. My family wanted me away from him, so I was forcibly moved around the country to find a place where I could forget about IT and my previous life. One thought stuck in my mind and still remains- “IT is a psychopath…but maybe it’s more than just him…maybe it’s ME.”

The man and I had to move into a sub-par home. It was all we could afford, as we lost most of our money in the fire. As I was dusting the kitchen I heard the man approaching, screaming like it was the end of the world. I heard his footsteps come near, I felt his fist hit me in the back, he did repeatedly I screamed “Stop!” But he never did. It felt as someone was thrusting a knife in my back, in the same spot repeatedly. When the man left, I felt as I was going to die. I dragged my body to the bed, I laid down as I felt blood drip down my

The death of a loved one is one of the most challenging events I have had to overcome. The summer of 2014, I was just going into my junior year, was one for the books. It was an absolutely amazing summer. My sister had her first baby in May and we were getting to make his first summer his best, but little did we know it would also be his last. We lost him at the end of July. It was one of the hardest things to cope with. So many unanswered questions still to this day stand.

Have you ever felt guilty after something bad happened to you & your family? I know I have. Everyone’s life is impacted by something that has happened to them. Birth. Death. Accident. Each one of these can affect someone's life drastically. One day my life was changed in just a couple seconds. My family and I got into a bad car accident. A decision I made that day caused it to happen.

When I was a kid in Lakewood Washington I had always loved Halloween and going trick or treating. I was going to be a ghoul that year and I had just gotten home from school and I said “Mom, mom where are you.” and I see Torin my little brother in his crib crying my moms door was open and I walked in to look for mom and I see her dead in the closet hanging.

The day that my son Bailey dropped of his two children to be raised by me and my crippled brother Willie was a Tuesday. The store had been busier than usual. The Blinker family had come by early in the morning and bought all there food for the week. Mrs. Blinker said they didn't come Monday which was their usual day because little Tessy Blinker had her fifth birthday and they had a some sort of a celebration for the child's special day. When Baileys rusty old beaten station wagon pulled up, the sun was just about set. This was time my moma used to tell me God and Adam got the closes in the garden of eden. As a child I thought always looked like a golden lemon drop falling down to god's mouth. But as a godly woman I know, know it is just

I didn’t mean to kill him. He just appeared out of nowhere. I got out, and was walking in a pool of blood. I got to my knees and cried. His body was laying there almost lifeless. Blood streaming down his face. My tears mixed with his. He grabbed my hand and said, “Never forget me,”. Those were his last words. I put my head to his chest and lay there. This man was my best friend, my other half, my forever, and I just killed him. The sirens coming down the road were nothing to me. The only sounds I could hear were his screams fused with mine. Next thing I knew, a group of men were grabbing me, and pulling me away from him. The ambulance picked him up, and I was trying to escape the arms of the officers. I wanted to go with him, but I knew I couldn’t.

I hated the man with a passion, the mere thought of him made me sick to my stomach. You could say that I haven't been the same since that day. I hardly eat and I like to keep to myself. The girls in my school call me loopy Lydia. It's only because I don't speak in class and I prefer to draw then speak. People think I don't understand, what they say, they think I'm crazy when in actual fact I can understand. They say that I have pale, lifeless eyes and that I seem like I'm in catatonic state but if only they knew. My mum knows and I hate that she knows. She had the power to do something to stop it, to stop that disgusting act. But she didn't, she stood there and watched. She cried and watched but she didn't stop him. She sat in the corner while it all happened. For 8 years of my life I called that man my father and now I can't even look him in

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.

Two more men were dead that left me and the knifer. I grabbed the pipe again. He lunged at me tearing the right side of my stomach, but he was vulnerable and I brought down the pipe to his back and left him with a loud crunch. I limped over to jennifer and untied her, she hugged me right away. We got up walking away until an echoing gunshot was heard and I fell to the ground. Jennifer screamed and was trying to help me up, but it is no use. I tried to move myself, but I was in too much pain. Jennifer grabbed my phone and ran away screaming. She called the cops and told them