Do You Appreciate Every Day? Essay

In the fall of 2012, my mother almost succumbed to her illness. I had just begun my freshman year of high school midst angry conversations between my parents and the threat of separation. It would seem as if they bickered about the most irrelevant things, almost as if they had no other reason to fight other than the fight itself. Those moments were excruciatingly lonely, my father worked until the dead of night and my mother would come home exhausted from treatment. I now know that there was no one who felt more unvalued than my mother. I wish I had the ability to iron away this blunder that destiny had fabricated, however foolish this desire is.

One weekend, we had decided to clean out the house to surprise my mother. My father found papers stashed away that revealed theft charges; my mother had stolen medication when she substituted for the nurse in my elementary school. I remember my dad scouring the house for more evidence, even finding a stash of pill bottles under their mattress. She had another court date coming up that he learned about, just a few weeks before a family trip to Disney. Shortly after that hearing, my family took our last vacation as a whole, knowing that a key member would be lost to us the Monday after our return; she was going into work-release for two months. Before the end of those sixty days, my father learned that my mother had been unfaithful. Their marriage ended, and at eleven and nine, my sister and I said what we didn't realize would be goodbye to our mother for a great while. Her drug abuse continued, and months of time would pass between visits. We saw that sweet, ideal mother devolve into an addict. This loss has shaped me greatly, and it has taught me integrity, strength of character, and great love for others; without these things, my mother cost herself her family and

That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.

Although I had an older brother and sister, I felt alone a great deal of the time I was growing up. I never "acted out" my need for attention. I did not get bad grades in school. On the contrary, I was a quiet child who made the honor roll. I was always given my sisters hand-me-downs which I resented. My grandmother was very strict and often cold. There were never hugs or kisses and not once do I remember an I love you. My father still came to visit, but remarried when I was eight. His new wife was like something out of a horror novel. The mental torture that I endured was a million times worse than what Cinderella went through. My grandmother along with my brother and sister came up with a nickname for me. They called me dog and taunted me every time we passed the pet supplies in the grocery store. At the age of ten my beloved paternal grandmother Memo, the only light in my otherwise dark world, died in her sleep while I was in the next room. I sat and watched as the paramedics tried to revive her with no success. On the car ride back home, my stepmother screamed at my father to "shut me up and stop my crying," as if what I had just been through should not have affected me at all. She left my father a few years later. At fifteen I ran away from my grandmothers house and went to live with my dad. I was receiving survivors support which I never saw once I moved in with my father. Although I did not know it

It felt as if I was surrounded by freezing water while on the inside being burned alive. I let my grades drop I did not care, all that mattered was being an adult and supporting my sister. My teachers did not care, I was invisible. Easy to lose in the crowd.The kids in my grade avoided me because I was “ abnormal” because I did not speak. The people who were supposed to be my guardians did not have enough money to feed both my sister and me. So I did not eat except for what was left over from dinner. I became pale and skinny. I looked like sick all the time. The only time I ate good was every other weekend when I went to my great aunt and uncle's house. This was the very best that life was going to get from me. I believed I was going to end up like my mother a drug user, and have no life. A few years later, my sister and I moved in with my aunt and uncle. They took my sister and me and gave us a great home. We both started to do a lot better. I got healthy and not so sickly looking, I started to talk a lot more, and I got my grades up. Unfortunately, my little sister did not like the fact that she wasn't entitled to anything anymore, and moved back in with our old Guardians.

Since I was a child, my mother would tell me to try my hardest in school. She told me thought thing because as a child, she never had the opportunity to go to school. She only completed up to 4th grade, because her family couldn’t pay the tuition to attend. She would had to wake up at 4oclock in the morning to sell food, to make a living for her family. We were fortunate enough to be able to come to the United States in 2005, but tragedy happens a year later. She received a phone call, saying that my father was in a serious car accident, on the night of Christmas Eve, he passed away. Since then my mother, became a single mother having to support two children by herself in a new country. There

There was always a problem in my mind that my parents never came to support me. I always begged them to come see me, until one day my mom said to me “ you're pathetic and making a fool out of yourself”. Over those words i became very distant from everyone and changed me forever like don miguel described “ you were put in a spell over the word”. I became very shy and antisocial. I let any opinion get to me.

When I was around 8 years old my mom got pregnant with a baby boy, and it excited everyone, especially me. Almost 5 months into her pregnancy my parents began to argue a lot, and my mom thought my dad cheated. She decided to have an abortion without letting anyone in our family know. She just pretended she lost the baby, until several months later when the truth eventually came out. My mom’s decision affected our whole family leaving everyone with unanswered questions, hurt, and heartache. Even my mom too this day experiences challenges living with the fact that she took another life, which led to many months of depression, hurt, and

As life progressed for my mother and she entered into her teenage years, life had more challenges in store. The death of my grandfather occurred when she

I was born and raised in the wonderful and populous city of Houston. At first I possessed a young and carefree attitude,but slowly my thoughts started to revolve around the real world in different ways. Not always was I able to get the things I desired due to various circumstances, such as not enough money. This started to pave way to my deeper thoughts about the world, and how I wished to become someone who would take care of my parents. Slowly, I started to witness the problems and worries of my parents concerning monetary issues and so forth. My parents always smile brightly and did not show any signs of pain, because they did not want to worry a small child like me.After witnessing some of their occasional pain, this also hurt me and made

Unexpectedly, my father called and with an unsteady voice explained, “I had to take your mother to the emergency room, and she is now being admitted to the hospital.” At age 13, this phone call began the most dreadful time of my life. Prior to this event, I was exceedingly dependent on my parents and even struggled with separating from them. In the beginning of my mother’s hospital stay, my familymy parents and two, younger sisters were constantly divided. My father stayed in the hospital with my mother, while my sisters and I would switch between caring family members and friends. Eventually I grew tired of different environments and decided that staying home alone was the far better option. As a result, I appreciate independence and know how to solely maintain a home.

My mom was very nervous and didn’t know if she was going to miss our lives when we grew up. Such as going on dances, dates, weddings and her opportunity of being a Grandma. It was hard for her to think that far ahead. She was always so sick, and when she started to loose her hair it was even harder. She didn’t want to feel like a “Boy” she would say. She tried as hard as she could to leave her hair in. When she woke up from her naps, that she took daily, the couch would be layered with dirty blond

It was a bone chilling January night; my mom received a call at about 11:15 PM, a call that changed my life forever. My Aunt June was on the other line. She was crying so hard my mother could barely understand her. Through the sobbing my mom finally understood that Brian, my cousin, had been in a horrible accident and she didn’t know how bad it was. My mother jumped out of the bed after she hung up the phone. She screamed up the stairs at my sister and me; it was a nerve shrilling scream. I could hear fear in her voice. My mom was always yelling at us growing up if we forgot to do something. She would even get us out of bed to finish something that wasn’t done completely. This particular

It was May 17th, 2011, it was a normal school day when my brother and I were told that my mom called to say that she was picking us up early. I was anxious, wondering why we were going home early and breaking our usual routine. When my mom came to get us, the first thing that I noticed was that she didn’t greet us with her usual smile. I was 9 years old, very observant, but not able to sense what was to come. We got into the car, when I asked my mom where we were going hoping

I was steadily put into the hospital daycare at three years old while Toysha would be visiting my father, but at times he would end up being too sick for me to come visit, so my mother would take me to my grandmothers and she would have to take care of me. Eventually, Christopher’s cancer started to metastasize, and together my mother and father decided to make the decision to have me go live with my grandmother for the better. Christopher did not want me to be around to see him in that condition and my mother thought I would have a better way of living if I was not with them. The love that they had for each other allowed them to make rational decisions and sacrifices for the better of my life and