My Mother - Original Writing

I sat there in my room with tears flowing down my blush pink cheeks. Wondering what was wrong with me, as a salty tear ran along my dried out chapped lips. I thought to myself,” Why am I so miserable? What did I do to deserve this? How am I going to escape this life?” I started to ponder that this was the end of my life, this is how I was going to be, sorrowful. At the lowest point of my life, mother came barging through the door with the look of cavernous concern on her face. She knew that it was time for something to be done, whether I agreed or not.

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.

An ambulance came and carried out my mom. I didn’t know what was going on, so many questions running through my mind, what was wrong with her, was she going to be ok. I was scared, more scared then I had ever been. My sister Sheridan who was 8 asked me “what’s happening?” through tears. On that day a little piece of me began to change because if I let her see my fear that would not help anyone, and so even though I didn’t know what was happening I responded “everything is going to be ok” even though I did not trust my own words.

My mother, Lisa Dawn Hicks Kern, was born at Wadley Regional Medical Center, Texarkana, TX, on Sunday, June 15, 1969. Her father, James Kenneth Hicks, was 28 at the time of my mother’s birth; he was employed at Red River Army Depot as an electrical engineer. Her mother, Sharon Lee Clark Hicks, was 25 when my mother was born, at the time she was the home maker. My mother had an older sister who was a four year old toddler at the time of my mother’s birth. Kimberly Ann Hicks was born at Wadley Regional Medical Center, Texarkana, TX, on Monday, August 30, 1965.

One summer day getting off the school bus running home, excited about going outside; couldn’t wait to go play with my friends when I walked through the door and there was my Aunt Liz. Standing there with tears in her eyes, in extreme amount of pain. I was scared, didn’t know what to do or who to call. Do I called, Mom or 911? After calling my mother then 911, I knew I had to help my Aunt Liz, bring you into the world. No one around, no one to ask for help, only Liz and I. My panic turn into a brave teenager who needed to help her

She lost her leg, has had two major heart attacks, and a stroke. Around that time the doctors instructed her to start saying her goodbyes. Her heart was going into congestive heart failure, and was pumping only 20 percent of the oxygen that it needed to be. Then I met Jesus. At youth one night, I received Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. Over the month's I took care of my mother and the household. I slowly started praying for her, and to find out her heart was regaining function. The doctors were in total awe at her recovery. She was able to see me walk across the stage, and get my diploma. As I grew up, I learned, everything that happened to me in my childhood served me a great purpose. Even though I still act childish from time to time, and have a lot of room to mature, I believe it was my childhood that makes me the man I am today. As I graduated I had somehow was blessed with a second family over time. As I got involved in church and they became my second family. The worship leader is my father figure and his son is like my brother. Mr. Johniee (my father figure) has adopted Ruben and I. He treats us like his sons. We are sort of a trio known all of

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.

My family saw me as a source of entertainment, but more important when my mother glanced at my small, but full heart it caused her briefly to forget all the pain. My family accepted their new roles and I made it my responsibility to care for my mother. Every special occasion, I made it my duty to shower her with love and gifts so that she never felt alone. When I had to get heart surgery at the age of 12 years old, I was aware of her medical anxiety, so as I was wheeled into the operating room, a reassuring smile lit up on my face and I instructed my aunt stay by her side. As time passed and my family healed, darkness spread over all that love and laughter that once encompassed my body. For a decade following the most impactful day of my life, I put pressure on myself to be perfect and give my family a reason to smile. All that weight on my shoulders finally weighed me down during one of my toughest, 2013. In the beginning of my 8th grade year my personality began to change and life kept to throw curveballs at me. In September, flames ran up the side of my house and I briefly faced my death; however I escaped untouched and my childhood home remained mostly intact. In December, a baking activity ended in a cut tendon, surgery and the start of a long battle with mental

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.

I can still remember vividly the day my mother passed away. My mother passed away at a critical point in my life when I was seventeen years old from a short term illness. She was sick for a week and I remember thinking this could be serious, however, my mother declined to go to the hospital because of the distance and financial hardship. I had loss my father when I was three years old, so my mother was a single mother. I have step sisters and brother, but I was not particularly close to them. Losing my mother was a defining moment in my life for it changed my life irrevocably. I was devastated, but I had to become strong, proactive and it spurred me to choose a new career path.

I remember the day my mother found out that we were coming to America. She started singing, crying, and dancing. Unfortunately, my mother’s younger sister could not come with us, and she stayed in Liberia. When we finally came to America, few years went by and my mother met my stepdad. She got pregnant and had our little sister name Mimi, but not too long after, my mother was diagnosed with having a brain tumor. She had to undergo a surgery, and I remember asking God, to please not to take my mother's life too. During the period of her surgical procedures, it felt like the longest time in my life, waiting to see what the results would be. Finally, we got our answer; she survived. She is healthy and alive but not a day goes by without me worrying about

We sat in my grandparent’s living room. The large white curtains were drawn to keep the sun from shining through. My grandpa sat in a red chair with an extra pillow behind him to support his back as I sat in the red wheelchair that had been given to him after he had broken his hip. His face was tanned and his hair was the same as it always was; a halo of white around his head with wispy strands on top that I remember playing with from my childhood.. He had crinkles at the corners his eyes and smile lines near his mouth from years of laughter. My grandma was nestled in the corner to my right with Hillary Clinton’s biography in hand. The pictures of my family that my grandma had taken added a homey feeling to the room.

I didn’t have the normal childhood that some children have. Some children never got to know their grandparents. I have gotten to know my grandparents and grandmother. One in particular was my grandma Arnold or “Marsh”. She was the perfect grandma that anyone could have. She would play on the floor with you. She would play make believe with you. She was my favorite grandma.

It was January 1, 2013 and I was at my grandmas house. It was a tradition that Jiwe go to the zoo lights and the spaghetti factory. But this was one of the worst days of my life. I was sitting there petting my grandma 's dog he was a boxer mix, and usually he is a really nice dog but today he must not have liked blonde little girls because it happened in an instance. He attacked me . I screeched and I pushed my little sister out of the way into the kitchen.. My mom was in my grandma 's bedroom waking my sister up from her nap. She heard the growling from the back room along with my grandma who was in the kitchen cooking. He attacked my lip, his paws held my face as his teeth dug deeper into lip. I was frightened I was pinned up against this wall. My grandma pulled him off of me. My face was mauled.

Of course you always hear people talking about how great their grandmother or grandfather are, I too feel the same way about my grandmother. I see her as more than my grandmother, she’s a role mole, my best friend and also like a sister when I need her. She’s always been a loving and caring person. Not for only her friends and family, but also strangers. People she has never met a day in her life she would be willing to go give her last too. You don’t find to many people like her too often.