My Memories Of My Father

I remembered being held back by people but I was fighting back, wanting to go see if my dad was okay. My mom stood crying to the side, her body shaking with her sobs.

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,

When I was 4, my father left my brother, mother and I and we were alone and had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. The way that I felt had only ever been expressed through poems that I had written over the years, but they were all full of anger and sadness and were all feelings that I

On September 9, 2011 the Nation took a hue turn. Just thinking that morning you send your loved ones off to work or school and not seeing them again. One the day of the attack there were many emotions going on because you didn’t know where they were going to hit next. If your children were in school you couldn’t get them because they didn’t know if you were set up, so they did everything to protect the safety. At the time of 9/11 I was only four years old, I don’t remember much. All I could remember is way are all the adults glued to the television and crying. Ever since September 9,2011 the freedom and security has

My feet aching, I plodded along as cars rushed by. I wondered what the drivers of those cars would be thinking if they saw such a small child walking by himself. As terrible possible situations played out in my mind, I reached the one story building that was my home. For some reason that I will never know, I did not go and knock or ring the doorbell. Reaching the house only increased the horrible feeling in my chest. This was probably one of the strangest things that I have ever done in my life and stands testament to the ability that fear has to completely alter our thinking capacities. Normally, all my life I have been known has fairly level-headed, but now I was reduced to an illogical

During that situation, I was terrified because I felt an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. At the time, my uncle had recently passed away from the same medical condition as my mother. That is why I continually thought how would my life be like without her. But when my mother and I arrived at the hospital, it felt as if the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders. This is because throughout the situation, I noticed how the doctors and the staff focused on doing what was needed to help my mother. They

I had no idea what to think. Plane crashes only happened in TV shows where the characters landed more or less safely on some sort of magical, deserted island. This shocked my simple, easy-going 9-year-old world and was quite frightening for me. I thought that this would just be a strange anomaly, but it was not. A year later, I lost another friend, a boy who could have gone on to be the next Messi, died unexpectedly to a malicious cancer. Two years after that, another childhood friend to a swimming accident. All of these were accidents, horrible tragedies that occurred to young kids just as healthy and normal as I was. Nothing about these boys gave any hint to their tragedies that would cut their lives short, yet in almost the blink of an eye, their lives were. This made the idea of death very real to me. Before them, the only death’s I had really known were that of my great-grandparents. However, in this case, my great-grandparents’ deaths were expected, while those three boys’ were not. While death had become more of a reality to me, it still did not come across as something that could really affect me, but more of just a fear hidden somewhere in the back of my head. Come my 8th grade year in middle school, however, all of this would

Tuesday, September 11, 2001, was an unusually sunny days for the early fall. After I walked my kids to school, I came back and I called Comcast because they had raised my bill. I turned on the news, and hung up with Comcast right away. A plane had hit the North World Trade Center. I couldn't keep my eyes off the news, and then a plane hit the South World Trade Center, and then the Pentagon, and then a plane crashed into a field in Somerset County, Pennsylvania. I couldn’t believe what was happening. When I saw the first crash, I thought it was a mistake; and then it happened three more times. The passengers and flight attendants on Flight 93 are some of the bravest people out there. After I saw everything I didn’t know what do, except cry. At about 11 am, I went into my bedroom and told my husband, “You’re never going to believe what’s happening in this world: two planes crashed into both of the World Trade Centers and everything is on fire.” Fortunately, I did not know anyone who had their life taken away in this horrible event, but my brother-in-law, was in Boston, and was supposed to fly back home, leaving from Logan International Airport. Since all United States airports and flight had been grounded, the best he could do was rent a rental car and drive back to Crozet, Virginia. For the second time that I

As a child I grew up in a home with my two parents and two older sisters. I met most developmental milestones at the appropriate age, and I did not have any major childhood illnesses. One of the earliest memories that I can recall was at age 3 or 4. I don’t recall the exact age and I haven’t asked my mother about the event, but I know it was at least before I was school age. I recall that my mother and grandmother were with me and we were standing on the side of a county road near a small bridge. There were police cars and an ambulance parked nearby with their lights flashing. My mother and grandmother were crying hysterically and this was very upsetting to me because I don’t think I had ever saw them cry like that before. The reason that they were crying was that a close friend of my grandmother had drove off the bridge in their

I was walking home from the grocery store. As I was walking across the street, a tank rolled up to my side. I remembered when my mother was taken to prison, and my father and brother were killed for protesting about the government. It was just me and my little sister in my family’s, empty, apartment. We had to sell almost everything to afford to eat, and my parents were the only ones to work since I was in high school, my brother was in college, and my little sister was only five.

Growing up in a home with both my parents, I was fortunate to be able to spend a lot of quality time with my father. We used to go out together and play soccer, baseball, and ride bikes. I remember we used to play a lot of old school video games and my mother would get pretty upset at the hours we spent playing and not doing anything productive. In my point of view, our relationship was perfect; our bond was strong like any father and son. I was only four years old when my world was turned upside down. My life changed the day that my mom and my dad separated, I felt alone. The process of a divorce was too much for a child that age to handle; it was a hard time for me. Although I had no father figure for about 12 years because my dad moved

Although the United States has been involved in the Global War on Terrorism for nearly 15 years, it is nowhere close to being over; however, it has changed our society in many ways. Our daily lives have changed, whether we are travelling on holiday, talking about budget increases, or just looking at someone and stereotyping them. While we’ve all adjusted to these changes, we can’t ignore the fact that they are there, or the reason why they took

Losing my mother was very traumatising. She was the only parent I knew since the age of three and the one person I knew I could depend on one hundred percent. I was in school when one of my cousin came to inform me that I was to return home immediately. In my gut I knew something serious must have happened to my mother. I do not remember how I got home. When I saw several people crying at my home and nobody was really make eye contact with me, I just started to cry too and that is when someone told me how sorry they were for my loss. I was in shock for more than three days. I did not sleep nor eat and I did not shade single tears after the initial outburst. Basically I just wanted to crawl in a corner and never wake up from the nightmare. However, I had to become an adult and I

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

Throughout this paper I will be writing about my life, starting from my very first memory and ending with my life as it is now. Since I was brought into this world I had an older sister who is two and a half years older than I am. My parents said right away that my sister was so excited to have me in her life that she did not care that she was no longer the center of my parent’s attention. She acted as if I was her baby. When I was just starting out, as a toddler was the time that I started to develop my first memories, which are not all good. Lets start from the beginning, my first memory that I have of myself would be from when I was almost two years old. In this memory I was attending my papas funeral. I remember that there was the colour red everywhere, all over the walls and even on the seats. It was his favourite colour according to what my parents tell me. From this memory I also remember my parents walking me up to him during his wake and allowing my older sister and I to put a photo of us into his shirt pocket so we would always be with him. After this memory, my next one occurs when I am around the age of two as well. I remember being in my families first home sitting in our kitchen with my mom, on her lap wrapped in my little mermaid blanket, drinking a little bit of tea with her while we watched my older sister catch the bus to go to school. This is still one of my favourite memories because I truly fell that this helped shaped the person I am today. I also