Personal Narrative Essay: The Death Of A Mother's Death

1739 Words 7 Pages
I was twelve years old when mom died on the hospital bed. Her pale, lifeless skin resembled the snow that was gently falling outside. Beside me, my sister’s lithe body trembled. My dad was next to my dead mom’s side, his hands tightly clasping hers. His eyes were bloodshot red from all the crying he did that morning. After the doctor declared that mom was officially dead, my dad let out a loud wailing sound that I would never forget. He broke down and collapsed on the floor with my sister attempting to comfort him. It was shocking to see my dad cry. He was supposed to be strong, nothing should tear him down. My image of a strong father was shattered. I wanted him to shut up. His screams of anguish pierced my ears. The scene he was causing was …show more content…
After mom’s death our dad tried his best at being strong. He lied to us, giving half-hearted speeches to me and my sister about how he was fine. His facade crumbled away after he saw mom’s coffin descend into the ground. He later found solace with a beer bottle. Every night when I tried to sleep my nose was invaded with the bitter stench of alcohol. On a few occasions, I could smell a musty scent in the air when my dad lit up a cigarette in the house. The putrid smell was so strong and so revolting my eyes started to water. I spent more hours coughing the smoke away than sleeping. The foul odor was still present in the morning, making me nauseous when I headed out for …show more content…
The therapist explained that our family should comfort one another through these rough times in order to cope with mom’s death. It made me laugh and I told her that my dad found the presence of beer more comforting than his own son and that my sister was repulsed by the sight of food because it wasn’t mom’s cooking. I explained that I wanted to be strong for my family’s sake but it seemed hopeless. They were so caught up in their own problems that they didn’t see me falling apart day by day because of them. My voice cracked when I screamed that everything was mom’s fault because she just had to die and tear our family apart. She just had to make my life so difficult. Finally, I yelled about how scared I was and didn’t know what to do. At the end of my rant I realized I was crying and it was so humiliating that I cried even

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