When someone you love dies, you can recall everything about the day and the moment it happened. I remember exactly what I was doing and wearing when my parents died. I remember seeing my mother’s lifeless body laying in bed. I remember seeing them try to revive her as they looked at me with a pained emotion on their face. They knew she was dead, but no one wanted to tell a scared and horrified 15 year old that. I remember the exact words my sister said as she called me at work to let me know that my father passed away. I remember my response. I remember for the first time in my life saying the F word. Yes, that’s right. I said, “Fuck. Son of a bitch. Are you serious?” Then I stared at the calendar on my classroom wall as she told me that he was cold already and there was no use in doing CPR. That he had been dead for some time.
These moments are forever etched into my brain and I relive them through nightmares. It was these nightmares that made me scared to sleep. After a week of hardly any sleep, my doctor put me on some sleeping pills. Now the nightmares aren’t so bad, but they are still there. The feeling of my father’s cold body as he laid in a casket still haunts me. The memory of holding my mother’s stiff hand also haunts. These memories are forever with me. They haunt me and linger as a bad memory.
I do not like to remember my parents as this. They were very kind, caring, and generous people. Their deaths may be etched into my memory and may haunt me from time to time, but I must carry on their memory through my actions. I must strive to be like them because as people they were truly wonderful. They were angels and are now watching over me.