My Memories Of My Father

1656 Words7 Pages
This section of my life essay is split between what I have faint memories of and what my mother remembers so clearly. I have united the two into one smooth narrative, but it is still a united effort. However, in my mind, I can see perfectly clear the moment we found out that a third airplane had crashed into The Pentagon, where my father was. The sound that came from my mother was not human. She fell from the chair, dirt-caked knees digging deep into the floor, pink shirt already stained with tears. Her blonde, curly hair had clumps of mud in it, and her eyes were so red. Her mouth was open so wide, I feel like I could have looked down and seen her heart. She screamed and screamed, and in his crib my brother started to scream in unison, as…show more content…
I felt fear. Not the fear of a monster under my bed or in my closet, or the fear of a stranger I had just met. It was the fear of something alien, something mature and adult. The fear of the loss of a loved one, of a parent, at such an age where losing a family member or parent leaves deep emotional impacts on a child. I was scared of losing my father, and I didn’t even know it at the time. The other emotion was, of course, confusion. I had no idea what was going on, what the pictures on TV had meant, and why my mother was so upset. I was not a stupid child; I had a faint inkling of the situation. Something horrible had happened, and it had involved the building my father had to go to. Beyond that, I was in the dark. My mother told me that, when she wasn’t calling family and friends, she saw me walking around the house wide-eyed but empty, like I was there but wasn’t at the same time. At the time, I had no idea what to do. All these years later, looking back, I still have no idea. In 2013 I was a junior in high school, excited to be almost out of such a wasteland of angst and teenage hormones, and into the world of freedom and adult life. I had grown up since my first horrid taste of terror in my lifetime, and had watched as our country was molded by fear and paranoia into what it is now. I had been raised in a strict, controlling military household, and I was chaffing to go free, and not for the first time my thoughts
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