Sister Told Me Narrative

As soon as my eyes woke up to the bitter cold of the night and stars covered by black blanket of clouds, I knew that this was it. I had tried to prepare myself that day, but I was at school when it happened. The moment the intercom came over the classroom, “Hailey Wooldridge needs to come the office, her mom is here to check her out,” my heart stopped. I was able to make it to the office without losing my composure, but as soon as my eyes met my mom standing there with tears in hers I lost it. Right there standing in the school office, the food gates of heaven opened up in my eyes and I could not stop the rivers from flowing. My best friend since kindergarten had died. All the planning of moving in together when we went to college was down the drain. The late nights of watching horribly filmed scary movies was done. My heart was broken, and the pieces are still not taped together properly. Two days later was her funeral. Her mother had asked me to say a couple of words about her during the service, but the thought of standing next to her lifeless body talking about her and not to her made everything seem surreal. By the power of prayer and numerous amounts of tears, I stood up from my seat and walked lifelessly to the podium that viewed hundreds of people waiting to see what I had to say. I do not know how I got through that speech without hysterically crying, but somehow, I talked like I was having a conversation with Serra once again. In front of me, I

It was near the end of my 8th grade school year, about 2 month away from graduation, when something I never expected to happen actually happened. This event really changed my life forever and shaped me into who I am as a person today. I had just arrived at my house after school when my parents received a call that my grandma was ill and that we should come down to check on her. As we rushed down to my grandparents house, my family was deeply concerned about what may have happened because my grandma had never really had many health issues before this. As we arrived at their house and walked through the door, we were greeted with the sight of my grandma sitting in a chair with a blanket around her while she was sleeping. My family’s first reaction

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

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.

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.

September 9th started like any other day, but it didn’t take long before it was the strangest day I’d had in awhile. I came to school at 7 am since it was early in the year, and I still was adjusting to my new classes and new students. The new year was one I was especially looking forward to. I had just won the Teacher of the Year award after only my third year and my students and I all created a bond.

After several weeks of my Grandmother passing, I came to realize she wasn’t coming back. The feeling of shock had left and now I felt intense amount of emotional suffering. The continuous feeling of pain and unanswered questions lingered about in my mind. I began to wonder how it could have happened and what people could have done differently. At this time, my whole family was grieving over the loss as well.

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

My life experience while attending Pikes Peak Community College in spring of 2012 seemed to be moving right along. My husband Larry and I decided to take a trip back home to South Carolina when the semester was over. We arose early Friday morning and got on the road around 5:00 am. We continued driving until we reached St. Louis, MO. We had been driving for 16 hrs, therefore we were tired and hungry from driving all day. We decided to stop at Red Roof Inn. We arose the next day at 6:00 am, ate breakfast and proceeded on our way to South Carolina. We arrived at 2:00 pm at my big sister’s Lillie’s house. There we found out that my little sister Sarah had been staying with Lillie for the last four months. As the day continued into the night, we had gotten some news about Sarah

When my sister and I were in middle school, my perspective of my sister was horrible. I despised her and didn’t want to have anything to do with her due to her ignorant attitude. For example, when I was feeling depressed because my older cousins were ostracizing me, she didn’t notice and didn’t stand up for me. I felt angry at her and I saw her as an irresponsible bother that happened to have my bloodline. However, after we moved to South Pasadena, my perspective of her began to change. Because we moved into a new place full of strangers, we only had ourselves to relate to. I wasn’t very efficient in making new friends and I began to eat lunch by myself. My sister, realizing that I was alone like she was, began to pay attention to me and ate lunch with me. She was aware of my friends and people that didn’t like me, and she stayed with me when my cousins tried to leave me out on playing with them. My sister became my best friend and I realized that she was not a stranger that I should hold a grudge on but was someone that I could depend on when I was

Then came my brother’s illness. Within the span of less than a week, I was hurled into the real world: a world of uncertainty, adults, and death. Death had finally reached my front door. For four months, he waited there, but would not come in. This time, he was expected. After about three months, and for the first time in my life, I truly feared Death and its power. Unlike with the first three boys, death was more expected. My brother was not eating, not walking, and was showing no signs of improvement. Looking back on it now, I realize that to the adults, it probably seemed like only a matter of time. With my childlike faith, however, this did not seem like a possibility, or at least I told myself that. My brother could not die, he was not like those other boys. Yet he was, to Death’s cold, indiscriminate eye, my brother was exactly the same. However, as I have learned, Death does not care. Death did not care that my brother had been bedridden in a hospital for the past few months or that another boy was just trying to enjoy a pool-party, because he eventually decided to leave my brother alone. He left our home’s doorway with only the smudge of his fingerprints on the

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to be immediately met with icy blue ones. I blinked a few times before rubbing my eyes. “Jeff? What are you doing?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep as I sat up. He didn’t move from where he was next to me.

Rumos spread like wildfires, but if you didn't hear it from the source itself, it could be pure lies or the honest truth. Rumors have a way to ruin relationships whether it's family, romantic, or friendships; and once you hear them you don't know what to believe. Many of my friendships were destroyed over false information, some I didn't care to lose, and some I cared deeply for. There was one time when my heart just broke over the fact that I was going to lose my best friend, and I couldn't seem to handle it.

It is also assumed that the act of telling a story can provide insight into past, present and future events (Espinoza, 1997). By going through this process, individuals can find the importance of certain events and assign roles to people who are a part of their story. This act can allow a client to find new meaning and understanding to their reality (Espinoza, 1997). Not only is a

Around the time I started my tenth grade year, I saw my little sister... a lot. She followed me around like a duckling following its mother. I'd be in class making a stressful attempt to work, but my mind was elsewhere. She would stand like a statue with her head at a slight tilt, staring into my eyes as if she were a cat trying to find the best time to pounce. Her bleak, mysterious glare drove me farther and farther into the deep depths of insanity overtime. The most bizarre thing about it all was how Anna died almost ten years ago in a tragic car accident that also took my grandmother.