I was never aware of all the voices around me, some with tones of despair, others with anger, and some with stunned disbelief. I had only ever noticed the change in the beeps. First they were rhythmic and somewhat comforting to me, the routine of beeping was safe in my mind. I could only hear those beeps and see the act of death blackening the bright canvas that was my mother`s soul. The beeping then changed – joining to form one endless nightmare that signified her death. That was that, she was gone. The light had faded from her eyes all that remained was a shell. I was so confused.
I know all babies cry, but to me, it always seemed it was crying in complete despair, at whole knowledge that she would grow without a mother, but now so would I. It didn’t matter if there was one person in the room or a hundred, it made the same difference. With all the voices there must have been more than one, but it was just him – a broken man, his heart and soul wholly shattered. It was simple – her death was his destruction
I was always shocked at the deterioration of my father. My mother`s absence was as if I knife had shredded his soul in two. The half that remained had blackened and withered. I never even knew such love between them had existed but her loss and proved the contrary. The sight of his devastation was the biggest source of my anger. Within this he was selfish, only caring for his loss, but not for mine. I had never cried though and maybe that was why he cared not to check
Throughout the world, an undeniable, yet perpetual force is responsible for tearing nearly everyone apart: hopelessness. Often caused by instability or vulnerability, hopelessness plagues those who refrain from combating its vile side effects. Hopelessness loves company, producing an inseparable bond between itself and self-doubt. During wartime events, it’s imperative to display some form of resistance towards the crippling despair. Although on the surface hopelessness seems insurmountable, it can be fought. In All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr emphasizes how the vital tool of resilience can be used to conquer hopelessness in all situations.
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
People deal with grief in different ways. As a small child, the way the narrator handles uncertainty and pain is distressing, yet also expected. She finds distractions in the furniture and decorations. The child notices a
At this point, the first guest speaker went up to 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 tragic stories with tears intertwined. They cried out their anguish without feeling alone, but a deeper connection to their body, baby and the universe. It was the pain of losing not only their child, but a part that attached them. The disappointment, the longing, the despair is
In the exceptional novel All the Light We Cannot See, author Anthony Doerr, tells the story of two young adults whom had to experience life during World War II.
My father’s presence was the only thing that stopped me.... He was running at my side, out of breath, at the end of his strength, at his wit’s end. I had no right to let myself die. What would he do without me? I was his only support.”
The Light In The Forest, a novel by Conrad Richter, depicts the struggles of a young boy named True Son, or John Cameron Butler, who has been raised by Indians but must go back to his home with the “whites.” The story takes place in Western Ohio and Pennsylvania in the year of 1764 where the relationship between the Pennsylvanians and Indians is not great. Throughout the story, True Son learns the differences between the Indians and Whites, and how each group views the other. Knowing the views between the two groups, True Son things about trying to figure out which group he really identifies as and belongs to, which is one of the conflicts in the story. Through all the troubles that True Son encounter, the theme of the story is the true identity
I could hear my breathing as if it was a voluntary action. As I saw my mom car come screeching into the driveway, she rushed out, I ran up to her as I tearfully asked, "Is he okay?" With hesitancy and a sorrow- filled voice she said, "He's dead," I screamed over and over again, "No, no, not my brother! Anyone but him!" and I broke down crying, I felt as if I was paralyzed, I felt like I was suffocating; as if a giant hand was clamped around my heart, I wanted to run, I wanted to scream, I wanted for it to not be
As I stepped outside, the cold suddenly rushed to me, wrapping me inside of it. The leaves rustled by on the garden path. My first thought was to go back inside, but I decided to be that wonderful father, and make sure that everything is ok. So I kept walking forward, being careful not to trip on the dark, bumpy dirt path. Then I heard the noise again, a faint vooing, like voo voo voo getting louder and softer. I followed the sound, and then all of a sudden, it stopped. I listened really hard, but i couldn’t hear anything anymore. My conscious said to just go back, but my body took another step forward, for what reason, I have no idea. Then my body felt like it was being stretched apart and all i could hear was VOO VOO
She looked at the child, safely in her arms, breathing steadily. She looked at the man, then turned her head at the semi. The semi woman had no chance. She cared for the child, even when it ended her own life. She cradled the child in her arms, quietly praying that he didn’t what had become of his mother. She didn’t know that the child was hanging onto her arm, sobbing into her sleeve. The warm, wet tears on her shirt had brought something out of her. She broke down in the middle of the road. She cried into the bright blue coat of the little boy. He was tightly holding his Teddy bear when she had grabbed him, but when she looked down, he was no longer in possession of such an innocent creature. He dropped it when she had set him on the ground. She stood up, looked at the burning car and semi, and realized that she had saved a person, but she was mostly proud at the fact that she had saved a child, no older than eight years. The police took her, the man, and the child into custody. She walked to the ambulance with the help of an officer. The girl had been silent from the moment that she had put her earbuds in. She hadn’t spoken a single word. Not a single
The following months a winter, cold and gloomy, surrounded the house. My grandmother came to stay with us since my father had fallen into depression and needed help taking care of my sister and I. When my grandmother went grocery shopping my sister would struggle with homework without my grandmother’s help. One day when my grandmother left to go grocery shopping my sister approached me, which was unusual of her since its very rare for her to come to me. Her dark brown hair and big eyes reminded me of my self when I was younger. “I’m hungry” she complained, a question she’s never asked me. My father sleeping and my grandmother away, I was the only one left to take care of her and that terrified me. I had never cared for or known how to care for someone else. All I knew was how to evaluate whether or not someone was caring for another correctly.
They swarmed around me. The tears felt like fire. I heard worried, faint murmurs. “she's not going to make it”, and they're reassuring my crying, helpless parents, “she's going to be alright”. Even though I was so young, I thought that this was it. The fear. The pain. The sorrow. The memories still haunt me to this day.
With the serious discussion that was forthcoming Casey wanted to ask for something stronger. She went to the brick seating area by the wishing well and sat down in one of the wicker chairs. How could she explain what it felt like to lose a child? The pressure on your heart feels like someone is crushing it from the inside. It’s a constant pain with no relief from the misery. The image of your child dying in your arms that haunts your dreams and waking hours. The horror. The remorse. The guilt.
father did not die a ‘complete’ death and that haunts him. This pain is shown in a unique way
The reader is able to assume that the mother of the child has died, by the mention of how ‘my [his] mommy’s voice… would never say again.’ This along with the hullabaloo and a sense of emergency projected in the first paragraph indicate that the mother is no more. The ‘rigid arms’ suggest that the mother’s arms are dead. The cacophony of the word ‘rigid’ creates a sense of chaos for the readers.