Serra Elizabeth Pearson's Rare Diseases-Personal Narrative

I went to my living room to ask my mom a question, to see she wasn’t there. I asked my brother “where’s mom?” and he replied with “shes at the hospital, grandpa got burnt.” I would never have expected “grandpa got burnt” to be as severe as it was. I remember my mom coming home around two in the morning. I got up and out of bed to ask some questions. She said “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Pack some stuff up, we’re going to Waterloo tomorrow.” So I listened and packed up a bag.

Five days had passed this time since anyone had heard from my mother. I remember praying to God to protect her from harm and for me to find her. The next day she showed up, but not in the way we had hoped. One morning as I was getting ready for school my sophomore year in high school, my phone rang to the voice of my stepfather. My stepfather had told me he heard a call come over the dispatch scanner at his work and my mother’s name was mentioned. The sheriff had informed my stepfather that my mother had been involved in an accident. My stepfather asked me to go to the emergency room and see what condition my mother was in because he lived a half hour away from the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital I found my mother cut out of her clothes, covered in her own urine, massive amounts of blood all over her body, and lying lifeless on life support on the table. At this point, no one knew whether my mother would be okay. My mother had bleeding on the brain as well as a tear in her shoulder, a shattered face, and a chest tube draining fluid from her lung which had collapsed. All I could do was pray! My mother’s life was in God’s hands now. Three days later she woke

I could hear muted sobs as friends and family members began lashing out in tears. Yet, I stood still as ever as memories with my best friend began flashing in my head. I was best friends with a girl who lived right next door to me since birth. We told secrets and laughed with one another since the day I can recall my earliest memory as a child. It was unfortunate to see it all come to an end now that she was gone. All I saw was her lifeless body slowly turning pale on a stretcher stationed on her living room floor. This was one of those moments that makes you question how quickly life can take an unexpected turn. I wasn't willing to accept that

It was halfway through my sophomore year when my mom and two older sisters sprints down the stairs and storms out the house. Confused and worried, continuing to curl my hair. My mom walks back in towards me with a gruesome look in her eyes. With so many ideas already running through my head, I was notified that my grandmother was killed by my uncle. I cannot even describe my sense of emotion at the time. Confusion, hatred, and hopelessness all merged into one. And all I could think about was just giving up on everything. That is until my pastor said these words that I will always remember; “You're going to get through this, just have faith.” I took in those words and began to put his words into action

When I was 11 years old, my father died. Not knowing what to do with that reality and the emotions that came with it, I turned to my mother. My mother has always been my rock, so I was confident that she would put this entire situation into perspective. She explained to me how my dad had been sick for a while, and how god did not want to see him suffer any longer, so he called my father home. When I attended the funeral, it occurred to me that this would be the last time I would see my father. As the time of grieving progressed, I grew unmotivated, uninterested, and depressed. In middle school, I joined an after school program called Teen Hype. Teen Hypes's goal was to empower youth to be their very best self. After joining this program, my

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

I felt really connected to your experience after reading your personal narrative essay. I could relate to your essay because I suffered a lost in my family too. When I was really young, my grandma passed away suddenly and my time with her was cut short significantly. So, reading your personal narrative essay made me reminisce back to the day I found out she died. Similarly, just like you I went through a wave of emotions consisting of shock, grief, and acceptance. I'm sorry for your loss and I can't imagine the full extent of what you went through.

I sat in my silent grief and awaited the start of the funeral service. I struggled to hold back the grief; tears flew steadily and silently down my immobile face. I felt bruised inside, numbness, emptiness, as I walked behind dad’s coffin. Although he is gone already, my soul unwilling wants to acknowledge the finality of death, thinking about how I will never be able to look upon his face again, see the warmth in his eyes,

Thank you all for gathering here today for my closest friend Grace Wiley’s funeral. We have been friends since the pre-K. It was very hard for me when I got that phone call nobody wants to get, that your best friend died. We all no she died doing what she absolutely loved doing.

Families greeted each other with hugs and small talk while the children were running around playing tag, it did not seem like a memorial service at first. Then, the light atmosphere immediately dropped and like sinking lead, a somber nostalgic mood saturated the crowd. The chapel became so quiet in a matter of seconds that a penny dropped would leave an echo. The ceremony began with prayers and catechisms. Then, the first guest speaker went up the stage. He started after a long pause. As he told everyone his experience as a father, I could feel his heart ache and yearn for his late daughter. As several guest speakers poured their feelings and sentiments into their stories, I felt the similar heavy weight in my heart. Everyone

I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. His body made a hard impact on the ruthless concrete that caught his fall. In a blink of an eye, I dropped to my knees and was now wrapping my arms around his lifeless body, hoping my warmth would bring him back. But to my disappointment, his body was still. I let my numb fingers gently graze his bitterly cold skin. For every second my finger tips came in contact with his skin, my heart shattered even more. I choke back a sob when I dared to make eye contact with his blank ones. My mouth was uncontrollably spewing out apologies to the love of my life. I was sorry. I was in pain. My body was numb while my heart sunk, and my stomach twisted into a bitter

Pulling up to the funeral home wearing a white dress and my hands full of tissues, my whole body began to tremble. It was chaotic , something I've never felt . I gathered with friends and we began to cry together as we shared memories of our friend. We had each other and that was the most important thing. I hugged her mom and went up to and went up to the casket to see her one last time. She felt cold to the touch and her skin had lost its color. Grabbing her hand I whispered how much I loved her . Kari was dressed in white and her body adorned with jewelry and a picture of her cat Stan. I kept insisting it was all a bad dream, that I would soon wake up. In reality, she was gone and I was left

right now, then my grandma started to cry. We pulled up to my auntie Robbie’s house and it was July so her big willow tree was in full bloom and her yard looked so pretty, but it was overshadowed by the crowd of people crying. My mom just pulled me and my brother into a hug. Eventually she loosened her grip, looked us in the eyes and told us that Cody had passed away. Cody J. Martin passed away at the young age of twenty-eight due to a heart aneurysm. The newspaper clipping is still on the fridge beside a picture of him smiling in a pluto hat in Disneyland. The first few days I didn't say a word to a single person, I went utterly blank. Then all I felt was anger. After he passed I was angry, angry at myself, angry at the doctors, angry at the world. I needed someone to blame and I took it out on my family. I became even worse, lashing out at people that just wanted to help, shrinking back from their love, even though they were all going through the same feelings. Eventually, all I did was cry. I cried thinking I would never stop but eventually there were just no more tears to cry. Then came my saving grace, Kallie Michelle Crossland.

It was a cold fall morning at blossom town cemetery everyone was there for Mrs.Angels funeral. I felt like someone was watching me, I felt like eyes were watching my every move. Payton,violet,Brooke and I dressed in black dresses. It was Bridget Angels mother she was the most popular girl in school. She has long light brown hair and green eyes with tears coming out of them. Bridget never cared about her mother, she would always yell at her. Mrs.Angels used to be our high school social studies teacher until she quit a couple of months ago. Because Bridget told her to because it was too embarrassing for her mom working at our school. Mrs.Angels is a nice older lady, but she wasn't really old. She was sweet and was a really good teacher. Me and violet's blue eyes locked we looked to our left for Peyton and Brooke they weren't there. My heart was beating so fast I felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. I looked to my right and saw the leaves blowing off the trees, and Brooke and Payton walking away. Me and violet walked quietly over to them. We asked why they left.

While walking to my new school with my backpack on a Wednesday, a year after my father’s death today was not a happy day. A year after my father past away in the most horrific event I have ever experienced. I saw him lying down in the streets outside by house as cold as hell with his guts spilled all over the street. The cause of his death was not explained and I have not been the same person since. No doubt losing my dad was as hard as losing my own guts. We got along well and having that string blown apart can really make a person go dark.