No, not really

Just a memoir I wrote when I was in 8th grade. Maybe not the best written, but it shows the true emotion of my loss of my mom.

When I came home from a strenuous day at school, I noticed that something wasn’t right. There was a nurse at our house!

“Kids,” Daddy said in a cheerless voice, “the nurse has something to tell you.”

I was really worried because Mommy had cancer and hadn’t been doing well. Lately, I remembered, she hadn’t been feeling as well as she could have been, her voice was becoming raspier, and she was becoming paler.

“I have some really bad news.” The nurse told us. “Mommy isn’t going to make it much longer.”

Unfortunately, this was what I was expecting because she was supposed to die before Christmas but it was around Easter at the time. My heart sank like a rock that fell in the water and my eyes started fogging up. I felt like I was going to cry but couldn’t because I had to be strong for my little brother, Antonio.

“Why don’t you go downstairs and talk to Mommy.” Daddy said. I slunk down the stairs like a dog with its tail between its legs, waiting to be yelled at. I was so afraid that she would die with me right there.

Mommy and I talked for a while and I was starting to cry so I ran up the stairs because I didn’t want her to see me. After I calmed down, I went back downstairs to go talk again, and again I started to cry. I ran back upstairs over and over, not wanting Mommy to see my crying. I felt so lost and so hopeless and I was tired of running.

When I came back downstairs again, Mommy asked, “This is hard for you isn’t it?” I thought she was talking about me running up and down the stairs so of course, my answer was, “No. Not really.” In a careless way, wondering why she was asking a silly question like that.

I felt heartbroken again so I ran back upstairs. Daddy was still on the couch looking gloomy. He asked, “Do you want to stay here or go to the Kujak’s house?” By the Kujaks, he was referring to my cousins.

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to be there for Mommy but I didn’t want to be sad all the time. After much debating, I decided I wanted to go to the Kujak’s house because my favorite cousins were there and they would take my mind off things. A few minutes later, my cousins came to the house to say goodbye to Mommy and to pick me up. I felt bad for leaving Mommy there but I think she understood.

“Do you want to say goodbye to Mommy one last time?” Daddy asked.

“Yes.” I replied and scurried downstairs for the dreaded final goodbye.

“Bye Ana,” She said with her scratchy voice as she hugged me from a hospital bed downstairs. I was crying too hard to say goodbye back, so I just hugged her back and walked away to my cousin’s car. The turmoil of feelings was killing me. I felt sad because Mommy was dying, happy because she was going to be in a better place, scared for what the future would bring, inspired about the life that she lived, proud that she was my mom, annoyed that Antonio wasn’t understanding this, and joyful that he wasn’t experiencing the pain that I was. All of these added up to one quiet car ride.

Reviews

[Ricky Charles Dodson]

I lost my mom to breast cancer at 18. My new book comming out soon talks about it in detail. I can relate through your words, it reminds me of the feelings I had. Keep writing my dear, you have a strong voice. Things do get better with time.

[Nicholas Antonio Young]

This was absolutely amazing. I think this is my favorite of your works. The emotions conveyed in the writing and how it was written so innocently only intensified the trauma you must have endured and how much this affected you. I'm so sorry for what happened, and I pray that you find peace in life. I couldn't even imagine how it must have been for you

[mariah]

aww nice job! it made me prettysad, but poems are suppose to do that. they are suppose to evoke some sort of emotion in you, and this definatly did for me. and it held my attention the whole time :) very nicework
- mariah