My Life - Original Writing

The parents came out of Grandma’s room by one by one, bags under their eyes, makeup running down their face, and bright red noses. By that time, I could almost predict what happened. As my mom and dad approached us with their heads down, I prepared myself to hear exactly what I never wanted to hear. “The doctors are turning off the life support machine. She isn’t suffering anymore, and she will be looking over every one of you guys. She said she loves you all so much,” Mom told us while my dad didn’t hide his tears back.

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,

Seven years earlier, I migrated to Hawaii when I was twenty-three. I had flown away from my mother and my life in the Philippines. Like young adults and being rebellious, I wanted to live on my own away from my mother 's roof. I left the city life I grew up with in the Philippines in hope of a better life in another country.

I could hear muted sobs as friends and family members began lashing out in tears. Yet, I stood still as ever as memories with my best friend began flashing in my head. I was best friends with a girl who lived right next door to me since birth. We told secrets and laughed with one another since the day I can recall my earliest memory as a child. It was unfortunate to see it all come to an end now that she was gone. All I saw was her lifeless body slowly turning pale on a stretcher stationed on her living room floor. This was one of those moments that makes you question how quickly life can take an unexpected turn. I wasn't willing to accept that

I frantically run across the street to ask the neighbor to look after my two sons who have just returned from school. Then jump in my car and speed to the hospital. Not sure what to expect when I get there, I brace for the worst as I walk in the room. The room is filled with doctors and nurses all working to stabilize him before the trip “You’ll only have two minutes” I’m told as nurse hurries past me. “The helicopter is here, we’re taking him up now.” I love you was all I had the chance to utter before they rolled the gurney carrying his battered body away. “Where is he being taken” I ask a nurse as I’m running out the door. “Saint Vincent’s in Toledo” she responds

"Don't worry, Tori," my dad tried to tell me before he died, but twelve-year-old me wasn't listening. I was too scared, because if my dad said those words, it meant they were going to be his final ones. "Victoria, look at me. Please, Tori, just look." I had never before heard his voice like this. He was pleading with me, his voice sounding so broken. "When I go wherever I'm going, I don't want to go there knowing that you're lost. I want you to know that you need to keep being my happy little girl." My hands were clamped over my ears, but I could still hear him quietly sobbing.

I still remember sitting in that quiet room, my parents and sister by my sides. Me, laying on the bed with my sister and dad. My mom on the floor snuggling up to my dog Birch. And then he was laying there, motionless. The whole house was silent. The mixture of the rain and fog outside made it nearly impossible to look out the window into the woods. Nobody knew what to say. I knew this was coming, but I wasn’t prepared.

I watched as my family said goodbye as a I lay in my hospital bed, breathing raspily. I told them that I loved them. I tried to reach out for my mother’s hand, but was stopped by the short slack of all the tubes and wires connected to me. She comes closer so she can hold my hand, so she can comfort me in my last moments.

As I watched my house crumbled into a million pieces, my legs started to quiver to the point where I could no longer stand on my own two feet. Everything… everything I’d ever loved was inside: my diary, my family photos, my childhood memories. I couldn’t take the pain any more so I began to thrash around the frozen, forlorn floor like a fish on a hook. As my pupils rolled back, flashbacks rolled in. The picture of a child lying in bed while her parents read her a bedtime story replayed in my mind. Images of a primary school girl showing her parents the pictures she drew of them, as a family, wouldn’t fade away. All those memories…now gone. Forever.

When I saw my aunt and uncle walk into the waiting room, fresh tear stains streaked upon their cheeks, I knew. When my uncle opened his mouth to say something and nothing came out but a child like squeal, my heart was torn in half. When someone finally said the words ‘she’s gone’ to the family members that had just arrived, getting my extremities cut off of my body one by one would have most certainly hurt less. I shut down and sat in that too clean smelling hospital room, little by little people began to say their good-byes to each other and leave, while I just sat. My grandpa walked in and I looked up at the red neon clock on the wall to see that a hour had passed. Without saying a word, he motioned and walked with me out of the room to the end of the hallway where my sister and cousin were sitting. The corner where the four of us sat, you could look out the windows into a sea of city

I remember the day it all changed like the back of my hand. I remember driving, in the middle of the night. It was the same 14-hour drive we took as a family every summer, for the past 17 years. This time it was different, we were making the long 14-hour drive to attend my cousin’s funeral. As we drove into town I remember tightening every muscle in body fighting back the tears, but being strong was hopeless; I was broken.

I rest my forehead on the gravestone, it feels cool against my skin, easing my throbbing head. This feels like a wave crashing down upon me and when I try to breathe again and stand up, another wave plummets me down, giving me fear of what is to come and what has already come. It is a lapse of emotional distress that is seemingly impossible to stand up to. I realize that I am slowly deteriorating on the inside, because I was once like an Aspen tree, so delicate, but so full with foliage and color. Now I am a tree bare of its leaves that is shriveled and can never be what it was before. Anxiety, sadness, and stress are tearing me apart and shredding me to the point of numbness of emotions.

The grand town hall had half it’s roof falling off, I looked through the library windows and saw piles of books all flung about the place. Bomb craters were everywhere. I clasp my hand to my chest, it hurt to see my town in pieces. My little corner of the world. My home. I pinched myself, hoping it was just a dream. Nothing. I pinched harder and harder, ignoring the pain. I stopped, I looked at my fingernails which were now caked with blood, I didn’t wake up, this wasn’t a nightmare It actually happened. My anger took hold and I howled into the sky, tears streaming down my face. I sobbed and cried and mourned and wept and cried some more until there was nothing left and i felt blank, numb and helpless…

It was a sunny, blue skied, rainbow out type of morning on the eighteenth of July, 2014. Waking up the sound of my mom’s voice, “Girls, you need to wake up and start getting ready.” It’s already here? It seems like just yesterday my grandma was teaching me how to play cards, letting me do her hair, and scratching my back until I fell asleep. I’ve been dreading this day ever since her admission into the nursing home, and now that it was here, all of the sadness built up. Holding back my tears was the hardest thing I’ve done, but I needed to stay sane for the sake of my dad, who had just lost his only parent left.

We had arrived at the hospital and my mom walked ahead of me to her Two sisters so she can figure out what was going on, Then she dropped.My Aunts caught her and I ran as if my life depended on it. I held my mom as the river rolled down her face and I told her everything is going to be ok. She then told me, “Sh...Sh...She didn’t M..M..Make it.” My heart was torn into million of pieces.I felt as if I was stuck in a trap.