Personal Narrative : My Knit Family

Every night as I put Teagan to bed, after we’ve brushed her teeth, read her my “goodnight moon” we’ve sang our ABCs and you are my sunshine, we pray. Tonight she wanted to say the prayer. She prayed that “Dipstick and Momma and Beaner (herself) and DD (Daley) Uncle bubby (Arden) and Berky (Berkeley) and Casey and Cassidy all had sweet dreams. She then told God, “God, please tell grammy and poppy to have sweet dreams and i hope they are dancing on the clouds in Heaven.” Then she climbs under the covers and snuggles up to dipstick in my bed. I tell her “Mommy will be in bed in just a little bit. I love you.” And I kiss her on the forehead and tuck her in. My parents died in a driveby shooting when i was 20. T was only 3. They were a part of the

I can recall the day it happened, like it was yesterday, the air had a certain emptiness to it. It felt cold, barren, but it just felt like any normal rough day, where everything would not go your way. I arrived home from hockey practice like I do every Thursday with my father and was ready to lay down before I did my homework. Then we got the call and we bolted to the emergency room at Mercy Hospital. The nurse took us into a waiting room and we heard the heartbreaking news from the physician and the room went still. It was not a typical quiet but so quiet that you could almost hear your heart pounding out of your chest. When we saw my Mother, and we shockingly gazed what the car crash did to her it was a completely eye-opening. This could not be your Mother; that is all

The day was February 11, 2007. I had just woken up. I went to my closet to get ready for the day, threw on some clothes and went into the kitchen. The day was dark, the atmosphere had an unusual dreariness to it. My mom was in the kitchen making breakfast for my brother, cousin and I. That is when the phone rang. Every day, every hour that phone rings. I never thought my mom ever gets off of it. My mom picks up the phone and it was like a movie, someone calls and receives horrible news and drops the phone from shock. That was this scenario. My mom could not get off the phone any quicker. She calls for everyone to hurry up and get in the car, dressed or in pajamas. I knew something was terribly wrong, did my father die from a plane crash, or did my grandma fall?

It was Wednesday morning, 6:30am, and yes I had to go to school. I remember calling and begging, asking if I could take the day off, but mom wasn’t having any of it, so I had to get ready. The pain was gone, which I was fortunate about, but I still felt ill. I hopped into the shower, washed up, and when I got out I collapsed. White light again, but this time it was all I could see. I closed my eyes. I was on the floor, unable to move. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally opened my eyes. I went straight to my bed, and fell asleep. I woke up a mess, and felt worse than before. I looked at my phone, and saw at least six hundred missed called from mom. I called her, fearing for what was to come. “WHERE ARE YOU? WHY DIDN’T YOU GO TO SCHOOL?” She screamed. “I’m at home. I didn’t go to school because I feel worse than before. I really need to go to the hospital.” I whimpered. She told me that we’ll go when she comes back from work, and I agreed. Back to sleep I went. I wake up to my mom rushing into my room. She signaled to get ready by moving her head quickly forty-five degrees to the left. I got ready to leave, and we left at around

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,

I immediately rushed to my parents room; no matter what age I seem to reach, mother always knows best. I abruptly shook my mom awake, explaining the situation in-between sharp breathes of pain and anxiety. With her being a nurse, she immediately began to make calls; pacing back and fourth in the background, I awaited my fate.

One night as I searched for my mother, my dad told me she was not feeling like herself. My dad told me to let her rest that night and I could talk to her the following morning. As I started to wake up the next morning my father was sitting at the foot of my bed and informed me I’d be spending the day with my Aunt Michelle because my mother had a doctor’s appointment. I could not wrap my head around why I would not be attending this appointment but had attended all the others. Later that evening once again both my parents came into my room but this time without smiles. With a shaky voice my mom began to tell me she had been diagnosed with Preeclampsia and her illness was progressing quickly. Now with tears running down her face she continued

Soon after that dark but vivid experience, I found out some heartbreaking news. Her name was Tayloor’ Shae’ Johnson. She and I were so close that you could barely tell us apart. She helped me with all of my problems and everything that I was dealing with. Since my first grade year and her third-grade year, we have always been together. Then she had to move to Montana with her dad, because of family issues with her mom and step-dad. After proceeding off the airplane and getting in the car she was on the way to her father’s house when instantly an eighteen-wheeler truck impacted the car. Tayloor’ was immediately rushed to the hospital. The doctors didn’t know what else to do. She later was

My mom burst through the door telling me to wake up.(sv) I pick up my phone and see that it's 5:30 in the morning, I get up. I gather my belongings while listening to music. My mom hurries me, telling me that we need to go. I ask my mother where we're going & she says Oklahoma.I got in the car by 6 a.m. I put My seatbelt on and went straight to sleep (svv). Of course, My mom had her music all the way up so I didn’t get enough sleep. Our first stop was at a gas station to go to the restroom, I woke up and wasn’t feeling good at all, my nose was stuffed, my eyes were watery, my voice was kind of going away, and my face just looks terrible. My mom comes back into the car and says:

But no answer. Walked to the back and there she was laying on the ground. For a second I thought of the worst scenario. Felt everything around me froze. Slowly walked up to her and checked her pulse to see if she was alive. Thank goodness she was just unconscious with some minor injuries.

We drove for what seemed hours to my six year old self. When we arrived in the parking lot of the hospital, which I can never remember the name of, he told us why we were there. Lauren threw a fit, screaming and crying like someone was hurting her. She shouted “I never wanted him”. I believe that is still to this day the biggest lie she has ever told. We walked up to the big glass hospital doors, and straight through them to the elevator. I waited and waited for what seemed forever until the big silver doors opened, and my dad showed us which way to go. We walked past room after room listening to the crying and sometimes laughter. Finally, we got to the right room and we walked in. There sat my mother on a hospital bed. She didn’t seem hurt or in pain, but they said it was happening fast. At one point my mother’s father (Poppy) took us down to the cafe, and all I remember is that hospitals have very good spaghetti. My Poppy got a phone call and all of the sudden we were on the move, going through the halls like there was a fire we were trying to escape from. When we got back to my mother’s hospital room, everyone looked so upset; their faces, eyes and cheeks were red and

The morning wind is as cold as ice, slicing passed my skin while I’m standing against it. It always like today of every year: cloudy, cold and sad. Like the sky is crying with me. I blend down to a tall, sleek, marble stone with the name “Amelia Bennett” written on it. That’s my mother’s name. She died when I was 7 year-old, it’s odd that I have the memories of her very clearly in my brain. Most children probably won’t. But I do, and I when I do, I missed her. I don’t even know what happened on that tragic day. I was blacked out and the next thing I remember is that she’s now laying deep underneath my feet. No one knows what happen, or no one wants to talk about it, not even my aunt. She’s the one that take me in after the accident. Why? Because

I’m only sixteen, but I’ve been a grandmother for years. I know the recipe for butterscotch brownies by heart, I have a strong penchant for sweaters, and I love to knit. When I joined knitting club as an overly excited freshman, I expected it to be one of the clubs where I was planning on going to a meeting or two and and then never show up again, but I was so very wrong. Knitting quickly became an integral part of my life and helped me forge new and rekindle old friendships throughout the years.

February twenty-third 2010 was just a regular ordinary day. I was on my way to class on this cold February afternoon, when my phone rung. It was my cousin on the other end telling me to call my mom. I could not figure out what was wrong, so I quickly said okay and I hung up and called my mom. When my mom answered the phone I told her the message but I said I do not know what is wrong. My mom was at work and could not call right away, so I took the effort to call my cousin back to see what was going on. She told me that our uncle was in the hospital and that it did not look good. Starting to tear up I pull over in a fast food restaurant parking lot to listen to more to what my cousin had to say. She then tells me to tell my mom to get to

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