ASB Adviser

This quote constantly running through my mind as I begin the most important year of my entire high school career. Every morning as I sit on the bus on my way to school, I can’t help but replay a time during my freshman year when myself and everyone else around me weren’t sure if I would continue in school long enough to see my senior year.

In 2015 my grandmother died. When I received the news I was on the couch and my mother told me “Miguel we have to talk” I was sweating because my mother was so serious and she told me that my grandmother was dead, and in that moment all I could think about was being back in the Dominican Republic, growing up with her, imagining the moments I spent in her house and the mornings that I sat in her living room, watching TV and smelling her amazing food wafting through the pass-through window from the kitchen. Then I snap back on reality and realize the future my grandmother would want for me.

I remember waking up that day and that feeling in my stomach, knowing what was about to happen. Growing up I knew about my father's sickness. My family, I recall, was always supportive. No one ever thinks about how one day, everyone you’re around for years, can just vanish. I cherished my friends as I was growing up. I lived there for a majority of my life, up until fourth grade. I remember sitting at a neighbor's house and having the mother come into the room and inform me that I need to be home swiftly. As I ran home, my head was crowded with thoughts to the point where I could not even think about why I was supposed to be home quickly. That day marked the transition of what would be the biggest change in my life. As by dad became sicker,

As soon as my eyes woke up to the bitter cold of the night and stars covered by black blanket of clouds, I knew that this was it. I had tried to prepare myself that day, but I was at school when it happened. The moment the intercom came over the classroom, “Hailey Wooldridge needs to come the office, her mom is here to check her out,” my heart stopped. I was able to make it to the office without losing my composure, but as soon as my eyes met my mom standing there with tears in hers I lost it. Right there standing in the school office, the food gates of heaven opened up in my eyes and I could not stop the rivers from flowing. My best friend since kindergarten had died. All the planning of moving in together when we went to college was down the drain. The late nights of watching horribly filmed scary movies was done. My heart was broken, and the pieces are still not taped together properly. Two days later was her funeral. Her mother had asked me to say a couple of words about her during the service, but the thought of standing next to her lifeless body talking about her and not to her made everything seem surreal. By the power of prayer and numerous amounts of tears, I stood up from my seat and walked lifelessly to the podium that viewed hundreds of people waiting to see what I had to say. I do not know how I got through that speech without hysterically crying, but somehow, I talked like I was having a conversation with Serra once again. In front of me, I

“You only get one chance, and then you’re adults study while you’re young it’ll bring endless results.” South Park Mexican’s song “Addicted To Storms” has been my motivation since freshman year; however, I chose this quote from that song because high school is hard and comes with a lot of responsibilities, but it will all pay off later. This quote describes my overall high school experience because I do all I can while I’m in high school to be able to get into a good university and pursue my dreams.

Every night that we were able to get hot showers we celebrating making it through the day. It was one more day down before we could see our families. We would wright our families every chance we got. The days we received a letter from home was like a kid getting told he was going to Disney World. We would rip into the letter tearing the envelope to pieces. I had never felt so close to my family. I knew I had taken them for granted and I just wanted to be in my mom’s arms

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

I sat there in my room with tears flowing down my blush pink cheeks. Wondering what was wrong with me, as a salty tear ran along my dried out chapped lips. I thought to myself,” Why am I so miserable? What did I do to deserve this? How am I going to escape this life?” I started to ponder that this was the end of my life, this is how I was going to be, sorrowful. At the lowest point of my life, mother came barging through the door with the look of cavernous concern on her face. She knew that it was time for something to be done, whether I agreed or not.

Morning arrived yet this time with a cheerful face of my mother and my healing brother’s smile. For the first time, this felt like home exactly, the way we lived 2 years back with warmth and happiness echoing in our house. I almost forgot the comfort of sitting on a couch or laying on a bed beside my mother. The aroma of her devouring food filled the house and the riddles of my ever loved brother never stopped, now, I had no need to keep track of

It was an early September afternoon. The weather was warm with a light breeze of lake air. My mother and I were in a small garage trying to enjoy that last weeks of summer. My mom started to ask me a question about school and how I am doing, but while she was asking she started to slur her sentence she was going to say. The slur made her voice slow, as a snail. She realized what was happening and she stopped, like a bullet hitting a target a meter away.

At the age of twelve years old, I lost my mother due to liver disease. Came home from school just to see her take her last breathe. She was laying there with a family picture in her hands. I never saw someone turn blue as their eyes turned yellow. The warmth of her body was slowly leaving as she was turning cold. I laid next to her and asked her to get up or say something to me, she laid their so stiff and quiet. It felt so unreal. I didn’t know our last hug and kiss was going to be so cold. I didn’t know what to say or think, all I felt were tears coming down my face. My siblings and I missed a couple days of school due to the funeral arrangements and the mourning of our mother. A few weeks later, I came home from school with the devastating news that my father along with three of my siblings were deported back to Mexico. I was left with my fourteen year old sister, with no family in the United States that could have come to our rescue. I sat in my parent’s room and looked at our family pictures. All the family memories kept rushing through my head. I felt numb and empty wondering if I was still alive or was this the feeling you feel when you’re dead. There were only two questions in my head how will my sister and I survive? Will I make it to see the next day?

I remember being able to look up at the sun, clear blue skies and large fluffy clouds. Without thinking and second guessing myself, I stated, “ I wish that I could put this sky in my bedroom!”. I remember both my dad and brother looking at me and smiling with laughter. I think that they felt that it was a funny statement and an intelligent statement at the same time. My dad look at me and said, “Mere, well, why can’t you have that sky in your bedroom?” I next thing I knew, my dad had my mom calling our landlord and asking for permission to paint my room. I was blown away with emotions of feeling important and excited. The move to Oregon had put a financial hardship on my family of five. We went from owning our home to Atlanta from renting a fixer upper in the suburb of Portland, Oregon. There was a undertone in my family that children were not supposed to ask for extra things. Gifts and treats were given to children during holiday, birthdays and or after good behavior. Again, I was blown away with every positive feeling that a child could experience in that moment, especially when our landlord said, “yes” to the painting. I remember that my dad, brother and I got into my dad’s 1973 Datsun truck and went to go get paint. By the end of that weekend, I had a light blue painted bedroom, the same as the sky. This is just one example of how I felt significant and loved by the members of my microsystem. My parents had high expectations for all three of their children with behavior and academics. However, I knew that I was loved by both my

I remember it like it was yesterday. The day I got released from the hospital. All my family, waiting for me outside, the smiles on their faces. “I can finally go home,” I thought. But what the others didn’t see that day I was released from the hospital, is a piece of my childhood, a piece of that ten year old boy, and a piece of me was left behind at the hospital that day.

Although I hated to see her go, I knew that I would never branch out and meet new people with my mother present. As we said goodbye, the tears swelled up in her eyes and it seemed like the harder she tried to prevent the tears from falling; the faster they streamed down her cheek. Eventually my mom got back into her car and began the long trip home. There I was, alone in the middle of the street outside of my dorm. I walked back into Cowden, up the flight of stairs and into my dorm room in a trance.

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s