Why I Didn 't Get Up From Camp

The parents came out of Grandma’s room by one by one, bags under their eyes, makeup running down their face, and bright red noses. By that time, I could almost predict what happened. As my mom and dad approached us with their heads down, I prepared myself to hear exactly what I never wanted to hear. “The doctors are turning off the life support machine. She isn’t suffering anymore, and she will be looking over every one of you guys. She said she loves you all so much,” Mom told us while my dad didn’t hide his tears back.

We waited for a good hour for the doctor to come out and give us the news the doctor finally came out and told us she wasn't going to make it and she only had two weeks to live I was devastated i didn't know what to think or how to act me and my mom both broke down in tears I asked if I could go back and see her the doctor said “yes of course you can” we went back there and saw that was grandma was sleeping we stayed there for a couple of hours waiting for her to wake up but she did and she asked me if I had the book he read to me everynight I replied “yes it’s under my pillow were I always keep it” she told me to bring it the next time i come back. We went home, I lost my appetite so i went to bed. The next afternoon, my mom took me to see my grandma, I brought the book she asked me to bring to her my mom and I sat there with my grandma all day when it struck nine o'clock my grandma asked me to read the book to her that she always reads to my every night at nine o’clock we play a game we called beat the time we would try to finish the book before a certain time we never beat it until the day

It was a beautiful, cool July morning in the mountains of Colorado; the birds were chirping and the leaves on the trees were rustling. I could almost taste the bacon sizzling on the stovetop as my mother made breakfast. Nothing could ruin a perfect morning like this… At least that’s what I thought. Interrupting the cooking of breakfast, my mom’s cell phone strangely began to ring; there hadn’t been many people trying to contact my mom since she was on vacation. However, my mom ran to answer the call. “Oh, it’s your sister,” I heard my mom say. Although I was in a different room, I could hear the concern and worry in my mother’s voice moments after she answered the phone. Instantaneously, my heart began to race. I began feeling sick to my stomach

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

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,

That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.

‘I don’t want to lose her,’ I kept repeating in my head trying to look strong for her. I was trying to not show how scared I was, trying to stop bursting into tears the second I saw her in the state she was. She was so weak and there was nothing I could do to help, except stay out of the doctor’s way. There were nurses and doctors rushing around and giving me a strange look until realization dawned on them. I was at the hospital with my mom around 10 at night, in my pajamas, wondering what was going to happen to her and if she was going to be okay.

At 4:30 am, my alarm went off; I was more tired than ever. I rolled over stepping onto the wood floor. I walked to the bathroom feeling as if I could collapse and fall back into my deep sleep. After my shower, I went back into the snug, little room I was calling home for the time being at my grandparent’s house. I was at my grandparents house due to the fact that my dad and Stacy were already in the Dominican Republic. I packed my last few belongings and crawled back into the bed to fall asleep for a few minutes. I assumed that ten minutes had passed when I remember hearing my grandparents talking about how we had to leave soon. My grandma came in asking us what we had wanted for breakfast. Mickenzie and I told her we weren’t hungry and got out of the warm cozy bed to get in the car. After changing, we went out to the kitchen to say bye to our grandma, seeing that there wasn’t room for her in the car. She gave us a huge, tight bear hug telling us to be safe.

In November of 2014 my aunt tragically took her own life. That day I got a tearful phone call from my dad; I could feel his heart breaking as the words came out of his mouth. I held back tears as I drove to his office to be with him, knowing that in this moment I had to be strong for my dad. Together, heavy-hearted, we went and broke the news to my grandparents. During a time of year when most people prepare to gather together with loved ones to celebrate the holidays, my family and I were unexpectedly thrown into a period of mourning. My grandmother asked again and again why Joanie did what she did. I was at a loss for words. I had no answers. I still don’t.

The morning wind is as cold as ice, slicing passed my skin while I’m standing against it. It always like today of every year: cloudy, cold and sad. Like the sky is crying with me. I blend down to a tall, sleek, marble stone with the name “Amelia Bennett” written on it. That’s my mother’s name. She died when I was 7 year-old, it’s odd that I have the memories of her very clearly in my brain. Most children probably won’t. But I do, and I when I do, I missed her. I don’t even know what happened on that tragic day. I was blacked out and the next thing I remember is that she’s now laying deep underneath my feet. No one knows what happen, or no one wants to talk about it, not even my aunt. She’s the one that take me in after the accident. Why? Because

It had been a day and since we heard she was sick and that was the worst thing I believed. I woke this morning and pushed on my mother to no response. “MOTHER!” I cried and panicked waking up Brunon to help but nothing came of it. We ran to Zacharias but he was still silent and dazed by everything that had happened. Brunon woke up my grandmother and she began to cry from her weary eyes. She had died holding my grandmother's hand. The officials came into the room and wrapped her in cloth before taking her off and we never knew what happened to her body after that. Our hopes were crushed of ever making it

Finally, the nurse came and allowed us entrance to one of our worst nightmares. There the whole family stood with the understanding that they were taking the ventilator off and this could be the last time we would ever see this amazing woman. Each grandchild took their time getting one last hug and saying goodbye. I stood waiting my turn thinking how could I ever possibly whisper into words the gratitude and admiration I had for this wonderful woman. The whole room was on edge trying to be strong for each other. Eventually it was my Aunt Julia’s turn. As she stood there holding my grandmother’s hand crying saying, “Momma, it’s your little girl, please wake up, I know you can do it, you’re strong enough”. I thought my heart would explode. Then, as my dad, the strongest man I know, went over to pull her away from the bedside he began to sob as well. This was almost unbearable to witness without making a scene. I gazed out the window with a desire to be anywhere but in that horribly bleak room facing this unimaginable tragedy with my family that was full of life and laughter. When my Aunt Julia finally was composed once again and acknowledged once again that this was God’s will she said fo the last time, “It’s okay, I understand you are tired. I love you”. The whole room seemed to begin to spin and true mourning was awaken in my soul for this amazingly wonderful woman that held such a

Late night phone calls never end well, and this one was no exception. My mom answered the shrill ring of the landline early one Wednesday morning and was greeted by her sisters solemn voice. Aunt Mary told her that their mother wasn’t able to swallow food anymore; an obvious problem that had all the more meaning to her. Barely a month before, grandma’s sister, my Great Aunt Maureen, after a long period of declining health, quickly passed away after loosing her ability to swallow. It seemed that grandma would follow her sister’s example. Mom hung up the phone, the weight of the world settling around her shoulders, and booked a flight for the small Irish town she grew up in.

June 11, 2015. It was a regular summer day, or so I thought. Only five days until my fifteenth birthday and I was super excited. My mom had taken the morning off from work to take my grandmother to the doctors. She was going for her regular heart check-up appointment. As we always did, my mother and I drove that morning over to the nursing home in St. Matthews, South Carolina. My mother had recently entered my grandmother into the nursing home because my mom needed to start working more and could not fulfill the obligations of taking care of my grandmother like she normally would. When we got to the nursing home, we parked the car under the awning which was in the front of the nursing and covered a little walkway where people loaded their family members. I got out first and headed back to the room as my mom followed closely behind. When I walked into the room, I saw my sweet loving grandmother sitting there. As always, my beautiful grandmother, with her white hair, her green eyes, her frail but beautiful skin, and her smile glistened as she awaited her day out. My grandmother did not get out much so even going to the doctors was a good day out for her. We helped her into her wheelchair, a normal struggle for my mother and I, and we rolled her down the hallway to the car. We loaded her into the car, another struggle, and we headed off to Orangeburg which was where the doctors office was. While riding to the doctor's office my grandmother mentioned that her hands looked green

Both my parents burst through the doors, looking slightly concerned. “Mehak, why are you screaming?” My mom questioned. My eyes started to get watery, thinking of all the terrible possibilities, and I got a feeling in my gut that something was wrong. “Grandpa... H-he...w-were t-talking a-and h-he started c-coughing a-and the l-line w-went d-dead.” I stuttered, not knowing what to think. My dad flew out of the room, probably to contact my grandma about what was going on.