It is the year 2015. Summer vacation started five days ago. Three long months of getting some rest, watching Netflix, and holing myself in my room await as I’m sleeping in on a Wednesday morning (which, to those who rarely experience it, is heavenly). I open my eyes. My room faces the west, so I only have the reflections of the morning sun. I pull my comforter closer and close my eyes. Screaming comes from downstairs. “No, no, no, God, no!” I slowly sit up in my bed. My mind goes everywhere. Have one of the dogs passed overnight? Has my father made a surprise visit after three years of silence? My dog pushes opened the door at the foot of my bed. My younger brother, Mitch, stumbles in. He is 14 years old. His eyes were a red I had never
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My mother had retired from her job at the city when she was 36 years old. I guess she had bad luck - she managed to break her foot six times. At a certain point, she needed surgery and could no longer stand and walk on it all day. Throughout my life, my father had always had issues with drugs. Mom somehow summoned the bravery to kick him out of our house when I was in the fourth grade. It was easy - he refused to put his name on the deed. How could he prove he wasn’t squatting? Fast forward to February of my senior year. While waiting for my mother to come home from the bank, there’s a knock on the door. An officer. Informing my my mother’s been in a car crash. A phone call in study hall the next day. She’s okay, somewhat. She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and her airbags didn’t go off. She broke 10 ribs. The mechanic said she would have been okay if the crash were an inch to the …show more content…
I remember her crying from the pain - every turn made her costal cartilage pop of out place. She couldn’t wear tight shirts or even a bra. She couldn’t fall asleep at night because she couldn’t roll on her sides. Constant, chronic pain every second of the day, combined with other health issues - her sciatica, clinical depression, and anxiety disorder, namely.
The day after my mother passed, Mitch and I came home. The next week we would spend moving Zak in and planning for her memorial service. Zak became not only the older-brother archetype; he became our primary caregiver. But not just that - he became one of the biggest supports I will ever have. Zak taught me to drive, bought my first car. He made sure our grades were well, made sure we were well fed, and made sure we knew he was a shoulder to cry on. Zak helped me feel normal despite our tragedy. Even in my most difficult times - when I get a test score lower than I anticipated, when I have too much to do, when I have a hectic work day or difficult customers - he still helps me stay afloat. Whether he’s telling he believes in me, he knows where I’ve been, or letting dishes slide while I compose myself, it always works. Because of him, I’ve accomplished so much. I got my first job, I scored a five on an AP test, and kept my grades high all through high school. I know that, even though I’m unsure of what my major will be, he understands that I need a little more time.
My mother had retired from her job at the city when she was 36 years old. I guess she had bad luck - she managed to break her foot six times. At a certain point, she needed surgery and could no longer stand and walk on it all day. Throughout my life, my father had always had issues with drugs. Mom somehow summoned the bravery to kick him out of our house when I was in the fourth grade. It was easy - he refused to put his name on the deed. How could he prove he wasn’t squatting? Fast forward to February of my senior year. While waiting for my mother to come home from the bank, there’s a knock on the door. An officer. Informing my my mother’s been in a car crash. A phone call in study hall the next day. She’s okay, somewhat. She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and her airbags didn’t go off. She broke 10 ribs. The mechanic said she would have been okay if the crash were an inch to the …show more content…
I remember her crying from the pain - every turn made her costal cartilage pop of out place. She couldn’t wear tight shirts or even a bra. She couldn’t fall asleep at night because she couldn’t roll on her sides. Constant, chronic pain every second of the day, combined with other health issues - her sciatica, clinical depression, and anxiety disorder, namely.
The day after my mother passed, Mitch and I came home. The next week we would spend moving Zak in and planning for her memorial service. Zak became not only the older-brother archetype; he became our primary caregiver. But not just that - he became one of the biggest supports I will ever have. Zak taught me to drive, bought my first car. He made sure our grades were well, made sure we were well fed, and made sure we knew he was a shoulder to cry on. Zak helped me feel normal despite our tragedy. Even in my most difficult times - when I get a test score lower than I anticipated, when I have too much to do, when I have a hectic work day or difficult customers - he still helps me stay afloat. Whether he’s telling he believes in me, he knows where I’ve been, or letting dishes slide while I compose myself, it always works. Because of him, I’ve accomplished so much. I got my first job, I scored a five on an AP test, and kept my grades high all through high school. I know that, even though I’m unsure of what my major will be, he understands that I need a little more time.