Narrative Essay On The Day To Remember This Day

Often times we find ourselves thinking about the past only to try to force the memories away and return to our current delusion. We can never erase the past, but if the past is who we are, then should we just welcome pain back into our lives? Embarrassment, guilt, and pride betray us as we choose to bury our darkest memories in our head and look to a positive future without ever having to readdress them and acknowledge that they had ever happened in the first place. Thinking back now my weakest moment caught me by complete surprise.

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,

As i got home from riding on the school bus i ran into my driveway then into my house.I had let out a strong yelp for my mom i heard no response back, i was confused and thought in my head ( were had my mom gone i know she doesn’t have work to day neither any arrens today,then where could my mom be?)Just as i was about to let out another yelp my sister came down stairs,she knew exactly what i was going to ask her.

There is not much I can remember from my childhood, the memories I do have are probably not the best. Sometimes it is very difficult to even think about certain experiences in my past, but I have decided to share some of my most powerful memories from a portion of my life anyway, even if thinking about it is upsetting. When I was a child, my parents told me a story about an event that happened directly after I came into this world; at the time of my birth, one of the nurses who was meant to be taking care of me accidentally suffocated me for a short period of time, the suffocation caused me to turn blue and go cold, I am fairly certain that this had a sort of damaging effect on the left frontal lobe of my brain, where there is a dark spot that can be seen

The day after Thanksgiving my family had a reunion for my grandmother on a boat because

It was the day of Thanksgiving, we were going to my grandma and grandpa’s house. When we arrived there, the food wasn’t quite done, but the smell of the turkey, potatoes, and the rest of the food was so good. My cousins were sitting in the living room, with my uncle, watching football. I went out in the living room with them, and played on my phone, till the food was done.

The most traumatic event in my life was when my father passed away in 2005, when I was only seven. At first, I hadn’t understood his death. I knew what death was, and that it was permanent, but I hadn’t accepted the fact that he was gone until long after his death. My mother was a mess, and I was a confused second grader who could do nothing to help her. We began to go to counselors and psychologists, who all made me feel very uncomfortable. All they wanted was to talk about what had happened to my dad, when it was the last thing I wanted to say anything about. I laid in bed crying for a few weeks, knowing it was because of his death, but I felt emptiness rather than sadness or anger. My mother began to take medication for depression, and still continues to do so. At only seven, I believed her sadness was my fault. To be honest, I still feel hurt when I see her taking the depression medication. I know that I had nothing to do with his death, but it granted me with an unwelcoming sense of guilt. I had just been with him the night before his death, and now he had been cremated into a bag of ashes. All of my teachers were very precautious about mentioning him, and I didn’t know how to process all the new attention I had received at school. I was definitely depressed, but I found a way out of my slump. I distracted myself from his death and did all of my school work from my absences as quickly as I could, and

I learned to speak Spanish at twelve when my parents threw me in a Mexican public school. I travel on a sailboat with my family. I especially liked the candy wheelbarrows that men would roll around town, filled with all sorts of goodies. I loved walking down the touristy beached infested with men and women desperately calling for your attention in effort to sell you wool sarapes, woven bracelets and straw sombreros to hide from the fervent sun.

It was a brisk and arid night in the town of Methuen. It was the night before Thanksgiving 2014 and my brother Chris and I were waiting outside for what seemed like forever for our uncle to come pick us up. For some strange reason I remember the exact time temperature was when he finally arrived. As we climbed into the back of his brand new Lexus I looked at the dashboard and it said it was 6:38 PM and it was a hawkish 25° F. My uncle, which I will refer to as “amo” which is the Lebanese Arabic term for uncle, said “Are you boys ready to make a change in people’s lives?” We responded simultaneously with a bewailing “yesssss”.

The crisp, cool, and cinnamon air filled the morning of Thanksgiving in 1987. Although I was only two years and eleven months old, I remember the scratchy, fuzzy, purple- footed pajamas that I was wearing that morning. After I woke up, I "helped" my mom make her famous orange- cranberry relish, got dressed in my cream sweater dotted with cherries and my navy pleated skirt, topped off with my favorite cream fuzz- warn tights, and before I knew it we were out the door to my grandmother's house. After an early dinner with my grandparents, mom, and dad, my grandfather and dad left to catch the Dallas Cowboys Thanksgiving Day football game, leaving the rest of us to find entertainment of our own.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was driving to Mount Shasta with my friend, Marley, and her parents for the weekend. It was about a four-and-a-half-hour car ride full of two eight year olds giggling in the back of the car and two parents blasting Disney radio in the front seats. Marley’s mom’s phone rings and she picks it up as we continue to sing our young hearts out to the Jonas Brothers. All of a sudden my friend and I hear her mother shriek with a pain we have never heard before. Her mother cries out, with tears bursting uncontrollably from her eyes. Marley and I go silent and wide-eyed with shivers down our spines. We had never seen a grown up act this way. She hits her husband’s bicep repeatedly rocking back and forth in her passenger seat screaming, “WHY!” Her husband is in the driver’s seat and he is pale. He is repeatedly yelling at his wife “What happened?” getting louder and louder. We are swerving off the highway to pull over and she yells “Dean died!” My friend and I look at each other. We didn’t know a Dean. The father forces his weight on the brake as we enter the shoulder of the highway, we jolt forward as our seatbelts lock. Marley’s mother immediately gets out and crawls into a fetal position on the curb. Her husband gets out of the driver’s seat and walks onto the highway, unfazed by the cars passing him on the freeway. Her parents talk for what felt like hours to us children sitting silently in the back

It was November 26, 2013 (I was in sixth grade) and my grandma (great grandma) was coming down with something. I thought it was the stomach flu, but we weren’t sure. One of the main things that popped into my mind was that Thanksgiving is only two days away. What about Thanksgiving? My grandma normally cooks Thanksgiving with the help from my mom, who the next morning was also sick. (And you are probably wondering, no I do not live with my grandma, me some of my siblings and cousins spend the night at her house around holidays) So now the two people that cook Thanksgiving dinner for about twenty people, are sick.

It’s Thanksgiving Day and I am really excited because this is the time where we all give thanks to each other and I get to have my Grandma’s delicious homemade pumpkin pie! Mmm, delicious!

He’s in his home looking outside the window on a rainy day tell me he says. Tell me a story from my childhood .

A Memorable day in my life, was, when I went to Walt Disney World. I remember the day like it was yesterday. My Trip to Disney World was the most joyous time in my life. There were so, many things to do, for the whole family to enjoy. My trip Walt Disney World was like a fantasy. Visiting Walt Disney World was more like, an escape from the real world. Visiting Walt Disney World Was an experience. I had the chance to see all of the Disney Characters , That, I've seen on television come to life there.