Coming home to find out that that loved one of yours is gone. I was in 4th grade going to 5th, when my dad's mother passed away. My father was very devastated and decided to go to Mexico to see his mother for the last time. Three weeks later of that same year my father's brother's wife passed away. Therefore my father had to stay little longer in Mexico.
A couple of weeks pass and my mother gets a phone call from one of my father's sister mentioning that my father is hospitalized because of several severe stomach aches he was having. School was almost ending for my siblings and me, but my mother had to take us to Mexico to see my father. I missed out on a lot when I got back but I managed to keep up with my work. As soon as we came to Mexico, my mother rushed to the hospital to see my father, the doctors told her that my father had cancer and that it was spreading all over his body. That is when my mother begged the doctors to let my father come to the U.S to get treatment.
The doctors then let my father leave, so we came back to the U.S. My father was then hospitalized upon arrival to America. Weeks passed and the ambulance brought my father home and the hospital provided a special bed for him. Along with my father came two nurses who promised to be there 24/7 taking care of him and providing medicine for him.
It was September 2004, I had entered 5th grade and my father was still living. Every day that passed he felt worse. As soon as I would come home, I'd go straight into my father's room and give him a kiss in the cheek.
A month passed and it was October. A counselor came to my house and gathered me, my sister, and my brother. Then she told us sadly that my father was getting worse every day that passed and that he might die any time soon. I was completely devastated, we all bursted into tears. The counselor told us to stop crying because my father was able to hear us crying and started worrying. We all had to stop crying even though in the inside of us we were feeling sad.
Five days later, it was early in the morning my mother took us all to school like the daily routine. But once I got out of school I noticed that my mother wasn't the one waiting for me it was my aunt who was there to pick me up. I questioned her why my mother didn't pick us up and she stayed quiet as if she didn't hear anything. Once I got home the daily routine began I ran joicefully to into my father's room to find that neither he nor the nurses were home.
My mother came and I began questioning her were my father was and responded telling me how my father passed away. My eyes got watery and red. I felt as if the world didn't mean anything anymore to me and felt as if I was too dependent on my father that I couldn't live without him. My father's death left my mother as the role of both a mother and a father. We were all very young for this to happen, I was only ten, my brother was the oldest at twelve, however both of my younger sisters were two and eight.
Couple of weeks passed and my mother put us all into counseling for a couple of months until we felt better. After going into counseling I later understood that it was the best for my father because he was suffering with his illness. After his death, it made me want to be more friendly open up to others and be more kind. It made me realize to live life and share every moment I have with my loved ones because no one knows when that person might leave.
A couple of weeks pass and my mother gets a phone call from one of my father's sister mentioning that my father is hospitalized because of several severe stomach aches he was having. School was almost ending for my siblings and me, but my mother had to take us to Mexico to see my father. I missed out on a lot when I got back but I managed to keep up with my work. As soon as we came to Mexico, my mother rushed to the hospital to see my father, the doctors told her that my father had cancer and that it was spreading all over his body. That is when my mother begged the doctors to let my father come to the U.S to get treatment.
The doctors then let my father leave, so we came back to the U.S. My father was then hospitalized upon arrival to America. Weeks passed and the ambulance brought my father home and the hospital provided a special bed for him. Along with my father came two nurses who promised to be there 24/7 taking care of him and providing medicine for him.
It was September 2004, I had entered 5th grade and my father was still living. Every day that passed he felt worse. As soon as I would come home, I'd go straight into my father's room and give him a kiss in the cheek.
A month passed and it was October. A counselor came to my house and gathered me, my sister, and my brother. Then she told us sadly that my father was getting worse every day that passed and that he might die any time soon. I was completely devastated, we all bursted into tears. The counselor told us to stop crying because my father was able to hear us crying and started worrying. We all had to stop crying even though in the inside of us we were feeling sad.
Five days later, it was early in the morning my mother took us all to school like the daily routine. But once I got out of school I noticed that my mother wasn't the one waiting for me it was my aunt who was there to pick me up. I questioned her why my mother didn't pick us up and she stayed quiet as if she didn't hear anything. Once I got home the daily routine began I ran joicefully to into my father's room to find that neither he nor the nurses were home.
My mother came and I began questioning her were my father was and responded telling me how my father passed away. My eyes got watery and red. I felt as if the world didn't mean anything anymore to me and felt as if I was too dependent on my father that I couldn't live without him. My father's death left my mother as the role of both a mother and a father. We were all very young for this to happen, I was only ten, my brother was the oldest at twelve, however both of my younger sisters were two and eight.
Couple of weeks passed and my mother put us all into counseling for a couple of months until we felt better. After going into counseling I later understood that it was the best for my father because he was suffering with his illness. After his death, it made me want to be more friendly open up to others and be more kind. It made me realize to live life and share every moment I have with my loved ones because no one knows when that person might leave.