The Moment Of My Father 's Death

It was a baseball game day in the heat of July. I can remember warming up on the field for about five minutes and I was already sweating like a dog, I was drenched from head to toe full of sweat. During warm ups all I could think about was drink cold water and just jumping into the lake to cool off after the game. Little did I know that this scorching summer day was going to spark my baseball career for the rest of the season and for the rest of my life. Before every baseball game my dad would either text my mom or call me and would always ask me to hit a homerun for him, and everytime I would tell him I will try my best.

I was about six years old, in Cancun, Mexico for Spring Break in the Month of March. My family and I were staying at a huge resort filled with many fun things to do.We had been waiting for this family trip for months; I was excited to get out of the cold Minnesota weather and into tropical heat. We were in our hotel room getting ready for dinner with my two sisters, my mom and dad. I felt the heat all over my body, like I had been standing directly in front of the sun, So I went to open the hotel window to feel the cool breeze and to see the ocean view. As I walked to open the window my mom said “Morgan be careful, the wind is so strong if you open the hotel door, close the window because the door will slam shut; but I only thought about myself and I responded with a sassy comment, “Okay Mom.”

Researchers MacCallum and Golombok (2004) argued that results from previous studies focusing on the loss of a father could not be generalized to children who grew up in households without a father from birth. This is where lesbian mothers and single mothers come into their research, because these families did not necessarily have an absentee father due to family disruption or realignment. For example, lesbians have used assisted conception and/or adoption. In earlier times, lesbian mothers weren’t always allowed these options. Many often lost their children due to the belief that children of homosexuals would have psychological and developmental problems, and at the time, many believed the children of homosexuals would be ostracized,

The summer between 7th and 8th grade I woke up to an empty home. I looked everywhere and I couldn't find my mom. I walked into the kitchen and she had left a note. She'd call me as soon as she could and she loved me very much. She called later that day to inform me that she was in the hospital and she was okay but she'd have to stay so I would be home alone that night. As a pre-teen, this was both terrifying and exhilarating. I was home alone! I could do whatever I want and no one could tell me no! I drank milk from the jug and I had ice cream for dinner, I watched a PG-13 movie and

May 21st 2004, the day my father was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, and was given 2 months to live. I still remember like it was yesterday when my mum came stumbling into my room pushing the door open like she was angry at me, when I came to the realisation that something wasn’t right I had to pretend like I was okay and strong enough to get my family through this chapter of our lives.

I recall the day being a Saturday morning. My family and I had just woken up at about 7:30 a.m. I remember I had just turned 12 years old. By that age I already knew I had to help my mother in the kitchen with the tortillas by putting them to cook in the griddle. So I went into the kitchen to do so for my mother. However that day had become distinct from any other regular day. I had just walked into the kitchen when my mother told me I was going to cook the side dish. It took me by surprise because I had never cooked any type of food and I thought I was a little too young to learn at that age. I didn't feel ready nor did I know if I would be able to cook the side dish the way she did it. I felt as small as an ant in the

So about three years ago my aunt past away and my entire family attended the funeral. For those of you that know my immediate family (the Hairston clan) you know that nothing good could possibly come this happening. I'm going to tell a story that is 100% accurate with no exaggerations what so ever. This story will be long but well worth the time. It involves a black cowboy, an elderly Jamaican man, a borderline racist grandmother and three asshole brothers.

It was a Monday morning in october, a work day. I usually would go to school but I had the day that monday for parent teacher conferences. I was in second grade. Even though I had off of school, my mom still had to go to work. She worked at a private school, which didn't have conferences that day. My alarm went off, and I crawled out of bed. I “Why do I still have to get up early? I don't even have school” I thought, as I dragged myself across the hall to the bathroom. I got myself ready for school, and my mother and I were out the door.

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.

It was 86 degrees my socks were soaked, my water was already warm and I’d just gotten it like 2 minutes ago. I was only 5 and I was walking next to the stroller where my 3 year old brother was, my 7 year old brother was on the other side. We were walking around in “Animal Kingdom” not knowing what to do (I didn’t know that was possible.) We finally found a dino playground (it was a regular playground but they put a dinosaur at the front) I ran straight to the base of it before my mom even finished her sentence I was so excited, little did I know what would happen next.

It is amazing how many things we take for granted. We make plans for the day, and don't think twice about how those plans can be taken away in the blink of an eye. I never thought much about it myself, until I was faced with the shock, and undeniable truth of my cousin's death. I don't think anyone really thinks about tragedy until they are actually faced with shocking news.

After walking the whole morning in the streets filled with joy and children pulling on their parent’s arms to walk faster, my parents insisted to sit down on the Animal Kingdom Park bench to rest for a bit. As my parents talked about what we could do next my sister and I waited impatiently with our heads down trying to hide from the scorching sun. My favorite Minnie Mouse cap did me no use because I remember squinting my eyes to the point where they were basically closed. Although it was about 80/90 degrees Fahrenheit outside, my mom had forced my sister and me to wear a long sleeve due to our white pale skin that with just 15 minutes of being in the sun would transform to a bright red.

It is unbelievable how we take things for granted. Plans are made for each day, and we do not think twice about those plans. Unfortunately, they can change in the blink of an eye. I never personally thought much about it, until I was faced with the shock and tragedy of the death

On the first day of summer in 2010, I encountered a life changing event. It was a cool damp evening after the last day of school, and we were having a barbeque at my neighbors house. My best friends Tony and Sarah lived there and we had plans to stay the first night of summer in their aunts tiny old pop-up camper. We all were sitting on their patio on the cold and clammy tile, laughing, telling stories, and eating. My neighbor, Tom, had grilled hot dogs, and Mary and my Mother had made baked beans, cut a watermelon, and set out chips. The air smelled of grill smoke and wet grass. I was wearing my light blue pajamas, and vibrant blue and fuzzy slipper boots. It was a beautiful evening which celebrated the first day of summer.

The hardest time in a person's life is often following the death of a close family member. Death is hard, losing someone you love and see on a daily basis causes great grief and sorrow. For me that special person I lost was my Dad. My father died when I was twelve and it was no doubt the hardest time of my life. Our relationship was indescribable I was his little buddy and we went absolutely everywhere together, and when he died it was like he just disappeared from my life forever. As a young boy you really do not know how to react to such a terrible situation. Neil Ibrahim a father of four dies young and it's just you and your brother left to carry the family name. Throughout the grieving process one learns who really cares about his or hers well being and the upbringing of their children without a father, losing your father makes you more responsible and a more humble person because you are all they left behind.