The Day I Can Not And Will Not Forget

May 15, 2014 I hear my grandpa calling my name from my room upstairs. I walk down stairs and he tells me my dad’s had an accident. At this point I think my dad’s dead, because of how my grandpa word’s it, and my initial shock, but he’s alive. He was living in Virginia with my sister when it happened, so we leave for Virginia that night. We make it there the next afternoon and I finally get to see my dad. It was a challenge seeing a loved one with hundreds of tubes coming out of them, hearing that he might not make it through the night, and if he does he might not be able to see and so on. Seeing what at this point didn’t even really resemble my dad was very challenging.

It was early in the morning, and I had just woken up because I hear voices and objects being moved around in my grandma’s kitchen. I got up from the bed and made my way down the hallway straight to the kitchen. Once I entered the kitchen I saw all of my aunts with my grandma kneading the corn flour. I just stood there by the wooden door and watched as my aunts would laugh and talk to each other while the kneaded the corn flour. It was a beautiful sight to see because of the sunlight that was coming in from the window was hitting their faces and making it look like they were glowing. I started to look around the medium size room and saw the big dining table in the middle of the kitchen leaving little space to walk around properly.

In 2015 my grandmother died. When I received the news I was on the couch and my mother told me “Miguel we have to talk” I was sweating because my mother was so serious and she told me that my grandmother was dead, and in that moment all I could think about was being back in the Dominican Republic, growing up with her, imagining the moments I spent in her house and the mornings that I sat in her living room, watching TV and smelling her amazing food wafting through the pass-through window from the kitchen. Then I snap back on reality and realize the future my grandmother would want for me.

You never know when something might happen. An ordinary day can turn into a tragedy. November 8, 2016, was that kind of day. My dad was deer hunting so that afternoon it was just me and my mom.I was getting ready for gymnastics practice when my mom got a call. The caller ID read “Community Memorial”. I could hear the fear in my mom's voice as she picked up the phone. “H-hello?” she said. I waited nervously as my mom spoke to the hospital. Five minutes later she hung up the phone. “Your dad fell 13 feet out of his tree stand while he was hunting. He called 9-1-1 and is at Community Memorial right now” my mom said. At that point I didn’t know how serious the injuries were. “Is he ok?” I asked.

I remember May 21st, 2011 like a Vietnam flashback because that's the night my life has changed forever. When I was 9 years I decided to go out camping with my grandparents in their huge Motorhome and all day I had a feeling of something is going to go wrong but I didn’t know what so I went on with my day. When it was time for bed I thought the feeling I had all day was just nothing so I let it go and feel asleep.

In 2001, while I was a freshman in high school, a horrific tragedy occurred to our nation. As I sat in my seat in my drama class awaiting instructions from our teacher, the room was eerily silent. Before my teacher even had a moment to speak, the phone on the wall rang, everyone in our class knew something was going on because the phone never rang, in fact we all thought it was relic of the past. Staring intently as my teacher spoke to the person on the other line, I will never forget the array of emotions that reflected in her eyes. As she hung up the phone, she just stared at us all, not knowing what to think my mind began to contemplate what exactly was going on.

March 8th of 2013 is a date that will forever be engraved in my history. That sunny Friday would soon turn into a treacherous storm that would change my life forever. It began when my mother woke up. She was ready to take me to school as usual, but today she was feeling different. As we got inside the car, she had a hard time walking due to a painful sting she had in her lower abdomen. The car ride turned into a horror show as she began screaming from the pain she was experiencing, as if she were ready go into labor. Me, not knowing what to do, asked her if I should call 911. She refused. I was feeling anguished since was driving with the pain, which could have resulted in a car crash. As I got to school, I saw her ride off with a painful look

The moment I emerged from the stairway I began to stare at the man sitting in the chair across the room. This man was not the man I remembered; this man was pale, weak, and lacked motivation. He was not my grandpa: outspoken, stubborn, and jolly. However, the house had not changed one bit. There was still a cluttered mess on the table and reminisce of my departed great-grandma all throughout the house.

The day was gloomy and a bit chilly−a perfect day for a funeral if that was possible−as she sat on the folding chair staring at the bronze casket a few feet from her. Ruth recalled while growing up her grandfather always treated her special and they shared many good times. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she wanted to smile knowing shortly her grandfather would be laid to rest beside the love of his life, her grandmother. Since his heart attack she had visited him daily at the Mountaineer Nursing Home. He told her stories about the ghost on Putney Mountain, the loud screams in the day and the lights at night. Sometimes he talked about the secrets of Howardsville and promised one day he would divulge them to her. However, he passed away before

That first day, we drove him to the community medical centre despite it being less than a five minute walk away. At just 52 years old he could barely walk. His shuffled slowly from the car on shaking legs. A dull silence fell as we sat in the waiting room, I placed a reassuring hand on my fathers withered knee while he stared into the near distance, barely acknowledging my touch, mute and withdrawn. He smelled of urine and booze, of unclean clothes, the toll that comes from

I still remember him. He seemed to be about fifty years old, but up close, he looked about the same age as my brother, about twenty-five or twenty-six. He was carrying a few bags, probably containing his processions. When we passed him in the street, he seemed so sad, and tired, and walked slowly. We continued to walk on without much notice, but part of me could not forget him. When we reached a street corner, I looked into a tea shop, where people were getting warm after spending hours outside. My family and I went in to get some tea. I bought some hot chocolate, as my parents preferred that I not drink caffeinated beverages at that age. As we sat at the table, I glanced at a window and saw the man slowly shuffling down the street, like an elderly man with terrible arthritis. As I sipped my hot chocolate, I could not help but think to. myself, “Are there two windows that I am looking through?” In one was the warmth of the hot chocolate and in the other was the homeless man, damp, cold, with nothing to keep him warm. When we were about to leave, I though to myself, “What should I do? I cannot just sit here and allow this man to be forced into such conditions.” I asked my parents if I could buy a cup of coffee for the man,

on my shoulder and I turn to my mom. She explains to me the horrific event that took place April 28. Tears roll down my cheek as I turned away, watching the trees roll down. Imagining the pain she must be feeling right now as I watch church's pass by, McDonald's, Fiesta, Walgreens. It was a sunny day but everything seemed to turn to gray.

My phone died right after I had talked to my mom but I didn’t think it was a big deal until I heard a loud thumping noise coming from the back of my car. At that point I knew I had a flat tire and was going to end up changing it on my own, I guess you can say I was thankful my dad taught me how to jumpstart a car and change tires. Last but not least, was the day I held my mother in my arms, a day that changed my life for the good and made me realize that not every bad situation has a bad outcome. My family had been going through a rough time, my mom was stressed and wasn’t eating the way she should have been. My mother is diabetic and suffers from hypoglycemia so it’s important for her to eat unless her blood sugar will drop. That day I couldn’t watch out for her because I had to work the whole

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 wasn’t until the morning of Saturday, May 21, 2016 that I realized what the true feeling of unconditional love was. The moment a parent looks into his or her child’s eyes there is just so much love it’s unbelievable. People think they know what love is when they love a significant other, family member, or a close friend; however, that love is nothing compared to the love a parent experiences the day his or her child is born. That is the love I felt the moment I placed my beautiful baby boy on my chest.