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Losing A Mother At The Age Of Ten

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Losing a mother at the age of ten is not a thought one could imagine; however when faced with it, you have no other choice than to hold onto the memories that were left. The day my mother was killed, she had the opportunity, to call the entire family, to say goodbye. Sixteen years later, I can still remember those exact words of that phone call. While on the phone, I remember my mother saying that she loved me, and that I would probably not be seeing her for a while. At first this truly did not register in my mind, being that she always struggled to care for my sisters and myself; we often ended up staying with family members for an extended amount of time. I responded with “I love you too,” and, “Okay mom.” A few days later, a detective knocked at the door, and began to explain what had happened; she was found in a hotel room with everything stripped from her besides her boots. Everything in the room was wiped down, and all the sheets, pillows, and towels were removed. Her killer was never caught, and her death was ruled as an unidentifiable cause. Looking back now, that phone call made sense and I feel as if she was attempting to warn the family, yet no one caught on. Those little hints, of saying goodbye, could have possibly saved her life, still no one truly understood the meaning of the phone call. My father suffered from two strokes at one time; he was left paralyzed on his entire right side. My sister and I were advised that he would probably not pull through, and to

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