The Fire Of School Walls

When I read about this I was feeling very many things. Like how could I take my fathers food when he was nearly dead? And how could I not mourn my own fathers death? I knew that I definitely would, no matter what was going on between my father and

I was in school when I got a news flash about a shooting near a bus stop. At lunchtime, I opened up the story and it read, “Teen killed on way to lake park bus stop”. However, it wasn’t the headline that hit me but rather the first line of the article which mentioned that a Palm Beach Gardens high school teen, Claverle Joseph, was the one that was killed on his way to the bus stop. I didn’t know how to react. I just froze; I couldn’t process the emotions that were swirling through my mind. This was the first time in my life that I dealt with a death that was personal to me. My Grandparents had died when I was too young to recount any experiences with them. It was difficult to comprehend that I would never see a kid that I had gotten to know so well over the last three years ever again. My family and I did what we could for his family in there grieving state and donated to help raise money for his funeral. Although his death came as a surprise, I knew there was something wrong before the incident occurred because he did not come out for the travel team that last year. This was strange because he truly loved the team and playing basketball. Following my suspicion, a couple days after his death, I found out that there had been a series of incidents, including a shooting one week before his death in which he had been shot in the hand. His family stated for the news that they had been living in fear of their son’s life for a while. I wish I could have done more for him because whether he knew it or not he did so much for my growth as a person on and off the court. His life and this experience taught me to truly value one’s own life and to never take anything for granted because it could all be erased in an instant. His death helped me understand that I need to be as compassionate and empathetic for everyone I meet because you will never comprehend what adversities and difficulties they face in their

As I looked up, the sky was dark the sidewalk illuminated by the streetlights. The sound of crickets and cars echoing through my ears. I walked home that night, tears in my eyes. I was leaving, I couldn’t handle it anymore. The meds, doctors, psychiatrists nothing was working, our lives were in constant danger. By the time I got home the car was gone. By the time, I finished packing it was dawn. The sun creeping in through the shutters. For the next couple of days, I crashed at Jason’s before I headed South. I heard my cell ringing, it was mom… I let it go to voicemail.

Every thing seemed unfair that it was happening to my family. When we went to the hospital I saw Clay, my cousin who was the closest person to him it's an understatement to say they were like brothers. They were much more than that. I saw Trent and Ben, Kyle’s brothers. Brian and Angie, Kyle's parents. All of my family there at the hospital and a look that was much more than just sadness. The world was collapsing and nothing could help us now. The funeral was a couple of weeks later and I don't think I have ever been in a sadder place in my life where people have lost hope. I remember that I was thinking why would God do this to us, why such MALICE was upon us and what we did to deserve it. Christmas, a time of joy and happiness suddenly saddened with news of death and sorrow.

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

I've been here three days, and every morning this has happened, I'm forced to remember my mother's death and all the feelings that had come with it, all over again. "Yeah, um, it is." I tell her. A warm tear falls slowly down my freckled cheek, hits my lips and spreads across my mouth. I'm so tired of her persistent nagging, that perhaps I'll leave the house today. I could go on a walk or something,

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

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 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.

Warily, I walked over to where my father was standing right outside the school, waiting for Cole and I, when I saw he had shades on, I knew for sure that something was wrong, due to the fact he never wore shades. When we were to the pick-up my whole family was in there. Noticing, when I jumped in the pick-up, my mother also had shades on. Anxiously, I sat there attentively for the longest second of my life, then my father stammered to us that grandfather had passed away. Countless emotions were running through me, overwhelmed; I didn’t know what to think, raving; owing to they said he was going to be adequate, grieving; due to I didn’t get to talk t6o my grandfather before he passed

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

It was September 28, 2009, and I was on my way to Ocoee Middle School. My cousin, who I was close with at the time, gets on the bus and asks me “ So you found out what happen?” I looked at her all confused and said to her “ What are you talking about?” She had said to me that, my grandfather had passed the day before. My cousin looked at me like expecting me to cry, but in that moment all I could say to myself was I didn’t get to say goodbye. My cousin in that moment started to regret telling me, but I had reassured her that I was happy that she had told me. I got to school and went throughout my first three periods feeling nothing but emptiness and as if a part of me was gone. As I walked into my fourth period class it seemed as if those emotions

The stench of death hit my nostrils as I opened the door to go inside, which is why I always hated going to the hospital. We waited the fifteen minute queue, until I heard my name from a nurse. I followed the nurse into a small, beige room. I sat down on the examining table, as my doctor walked in. I told him my symptoms, and he did a quick check up. His cold fingers pressed against my lower back. “Breathe in and out.” He said. I did as told. “Slower.” he exclaimed. At that moment, while I was slowly breathing in and out, I could hear a small click every time I inhaled. The doctor looked up and said, “Ahhh, you seem to have pneumonia.” He explained to my mom and I what that meant because we were clueless. After he finished, he told us that if I waited any longer to go to the hospital, he wouldn’t be speaking to me, which opened my mom’s eyes finally. He told me that I couldn’t go to school for at least another two weeks, gave me a school note and my prescription. We left the hospital. My mom dropped me off, and went to pick up the medication. As I lay in bed, I remember thinking about everything that has happened to me in the past two days, and what the doctor told me. Those thoughts were interrupted by the opening of my bedroom door as my mom walked in. She handed me the medication. I swallowed the pills, and fell asleep. The next morning my mom walks in with a stack of papers. She said, “It’s alright if you’re not able to attend class,

I remember feeling a sensation within me, a feeling of accomplishment, fulfillment, and hope, the same feelings that ran down my mother’s eyes, tear by tear. I knew at that very moment that my mom finally realized how much she had done to bring us all to this table, with no financial worries, no resentment towards each other, and with something to offer to this broken world. I remember feeling that I had reached a peak in my life, a moment that I would never forget. I realized that I had just closed a chapter in my story, a chapter with the best moment of my life as a beautiful ending. Yet there was still something missing, a

My mother then proceeded to tell me her version of what had happened. I realized then that the person who talked to her wasn’t a selfless person willing to rescue me; he was a man who promised to never let me see light again unless my mother gave him what he asked for. She never went into too much detail, because I knew she was afraid of remembering, afraid of going back to that painful moment where she feared for the safety of her children. That night I laid in bed, and thoughts of guilt consumed me. The only person at fault had been me, I had been the person who left the house and took my brother, I was the person who took the cab and went to the mall, and I had been the one that gave that man all of my personal