Short Story : A Personal Story

Even six year old me could see the great suffering my father experienced not only mentally but physically. I recall once walking in the bathroom and seeing my father vomit, it was the first time I seen him so vulnerable. I could see the pain in his eyes. It was our third month in the united states and my father could not find a job, it was killing him. He was considering a job as a dishwasher to support his family, for that I could never repay him. A sprinkle of hope glimmered in our dark world when my dad got a job as a dispatcher at a local Airport, when I look back now I wonder if father ever felt disappointed that his hard nights of studying in college was futile, if he know that he would have to give up his career to support his family. Soon we moved out of my aunt and uncle’s how’s into a small one bedroom apartment in a sketchy neighborhood. By that time my mother has lost a total of thirty pounds. The once vibrant and sociable women was always tired, she often made called relatives back home which resulted in her crying for hours. My father would often cook and clean, it was fascinating to see my dad performing these tasks

Last December, I came home from practice to find my mother on the floor of the living room, hardly breathing. I dropped to her side, begging her to tell me what was wrong, and she whispered that she was having a heart attack. Upon hearing that, my actions became erratic; I was hyper-aware of my heart, of time, of the phone I could not keep still in my shaking hands as I called for help. After waiting in painful apprehension, two paramedics would walk in, put my mother on a stretcher, and carry her out. I would give them her prescription medicine and wrote down the name of the hospital she would be going to. Then, they would take her away, and I would be alone in a house of utter silence. Something about the silence allowed me to ruminate over

Throughout my life, I’ve gone through everything that could possibly put me in emotional distress. I’ve been down a broken road with my father, the man I love so much I’ll make every excuse for whenever he disappoints me. I’ve encountered life where it’s not so enjoyable due to unacceptance and never ending judgment by my biggest critic, my mother, the woman whom I should feel most secure with. However despite the emotional mounds of pain these matters carry, I was able to lift the suffocating weight long enough to realize everything that burdened me, made me strong enough to have the will power to be independent and make life changing decisions on my own. At three years old, I met my biological father in a local supermarket’s parking lot; I remember vividly, the exact moment when this stranger held me in his broad, strong arms. I recall screaming at an immense volume not even laying eyes on him. All I had been focused on was finding my mother, the woman who played both parental roles in my life. This clearly justified the great state of confusion I was in in his presence since I wasn’t at all aware I even had a father. As I grew older, the visits to my father’s house became the norm and having begun developed a “best friend” type of relationship with him, I found myself crying more and more when I had to go back to my mom’s settlement. I never wanted to leave; my life became filled with happiness, filled with a father’s love I had never felt

When I was a young boy, seven to be exact, my mother died of liver cancer. That destroyed me inside, it still does to this day, but the love she had for me keeps me up and going. Again I can’t say for sure what love is, but the feeling of love I perceived from my mother has connected her to me more than any other human being I have ever met. One memory I remember better than any other memory I have is a memory from my seventh birthday. My mother gave me three choices and I was to choose one. She said “Dominic, I know you want a lot for your birthday, but I can only give you one. You may have a Nintendo 64, go to Dutch Wonderland, or you can stay a night at the Red Caboose Motel. Which would you prefer?” Being a young boy and do to the fact I fell in love with The Legend of Zelda series, I chose the Nintendo 64. When my birthday finally came around I got that Nintendo 64, along with the other two choices. I know this sounds a bit adverse considering I am trying to promote love over materials, but It wasn’t about the things she gave me. The thing that has the most impact is knowing she didn’t have the money to give me everything I wanted, but did anyway. I would have been happy with anything as a child, but my mother went out of her way to make sure I got everything I wanted with money she didn’t

Over that agonizing February, while my family stayed by my grandfather’s side, I remained home trying to succeed in school. I was intentionally left out of the conversation to protect my emotions. However, being shielded from the situation only lead to pain because I was left with nothing but assumptions and fears. I later discovered that my grandfather nearly died during his time in the hospital. He was on the verge of death, and I was left in the dark. That sense of dread while I was alone accounted for a significant amount of my

Early in the morning, the ball dribbles and echoes throughout the gym. The sound of the rim thuds, as the ball bounces and rolls around it. The sunlight comes through the window and illuminates the gym, and no one but myself in sight. The sweat begins to make its way down my forehead, and drips down my face onto the sleek, shiny floor. I begin to breathe deeply and repeat the drill, in and out and pull-up jumper, swish. As I finish practicing, I hurry to get to class.

I finally reached a point where I felt I needed to rest, or get an idea of where I had

Four years it’s been since I lost my beloved grandmother. The grief striking words still lingers freshly in my brain though it was last night. It was slightly after dusk when the earth shuddering news knocked on our door. My mother was busy kneading dough to prepare chapati and being my favorite dish, I was grinning from ear to ear with excitement. Unusually to say, her phone was ringing off the chain and since her hands were covered with flour, I answered the phone seeing it was her sister. No sooner did I pick up the call when she uttered these words. “We are officially orphans sister’’, my aunt’s tone was melancholic. Myriad woeful thoughts began flooding my mind. Those thoughts kept on building up like an unstoppable snowball in the pit

Still as a statue, I lay in the comfort of my bed. It wraps its arms around me comforting

Feature stories from siblings, seeking psychiatrist, psychologist, counseling sessions on account of humiliation, intimidation, physical and mental abuse, chronic depression; it’s all very real. Eventually, mother reached out, damaged and too elderly when she made that decision, however, it did not go well, unable to accept fault for her actions and ongoing hate displayed toward us; She could not forgive us, ‘in her mind’, for being her children. It’s been thirty some years, I have no desire to commutate with mother, the feeling was mutual, it would be useless today, she cannot remember from day to day, although I send Christmas gifts, however, there is no compassion existing towards her, what I feel is sorrow that her, life was miserable, refusing to change before it was too late. As a child growing up I knew there was

But things are different now — life has a sense of urgency. My mother is dying of lung cancer, a stage four diagnosis. My sister has suffered three devastating miscarriages and we haven’t spoken in months, maybe even a year. I haven’t spoken to my father since late summer, and I can’t seem to shake my resentment for his decade-long absence in my 20s when I needed him, just as I do now.

I immediately rushed the mysterious box of money to my room to count it. There was a total of $40,000! Where did all of that money come from?

On a rainy day in November, Allison was sitting out on the porch staring out to the world. However, she started to recall the conversation she had with her best friend Jasmine. The reason she began to remember their conversation was because she felt that day reminded Allison of all the bad days she had in the last few years. Considering Allison was day dreaming, she watched and listened carefully to everything that was going on.

It’s February 12th, a cold, snowy day. I run into my mom’s room because I heard her scream. When I get there I see her on her back in pain. I’m dumfounded, I just there paralyzed, until I hear her say

Imagine being stuck in a car upside down on a beautiful day. This was an extremely scary situation, considering I was three and my mom was pregnant. It was just an ordinary day heading over to my Nana and Pop pop's house in Medford NJ when all the sudden “BOOM” some random man hit us from behind sending us into a pile up of three other cars before landing in a ditch upside down.