I awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the sunlight seeping through my curtains onto the pink walls of my room. Being eleven years old, I was not yet a teenager who slept in; besides my family unfortunately had a funeral to attend this saturday morning. After putting my long black dress on, my parents and I sat down to enjoy my favorite breakfast; french toast. My mother always made the best french toast; crispy, warm, and covered in powdered sugar and cinnamon. Although we had to attend the funeral, it was not a gloomy event, a family friend’s mother had passed away, but it was her time. We were prepared to celebrate her life on this beautiful May day. As the three of us arrived to the church, the fragrant smell of flowers greeted
…show more content…
“We need to go to the hospital.”
At that point my father started recognizing certain signs that I didn’t understand. The pastor, my father, and I lifted her into the car, put her seatbelt on, and we were off. Going well over the speed limit, running red lights, and racing against time, we arrived at the emergency room. The doctors and nurses quickly lifted my mom out of the car and took her inside, my father and I followed, running. I heard the word stroke being thrown around by everyone, but being eleven, did not understand what that word meant. Little did I know, the word would eventually take over my life, changing everything in it. The following couple of days felt like a nightmare, my grandma stayed at my house with me but my father was not around. He was constantly at the hospital and work, making literal life or death situations for my mother. I knew that something horrible had happened, but the reality of the situation hadn’t sunk in. The following Tuesday morning, I hopped out of bed, following my daily routine to get ready for school. Even though the stroke had happened, I had not missed a day at school and kept to myself. Although that tuesday morning was different. My father had stumbled in the door, looking exhausted and shaken
“We need to go to the hospital.”
At that point my father started recognizing certain signs that I didn’t understand. The pastor, my father, and I lifted her into the car, put her seatbelt on, and we were off. Going well over the speed limit, running red lights, and racing against time, we arrived at the emergency room. The doctors and nurses quickly lifted my mom out of the car and took her inside, my father and I followed, running. I heard the word stroke being thrown around by everyone, but being eleven, did not understand what that word meant. Little did I know, the word would eventually take over my life, changing everything in it. The following couple of days felt like a nightmare, my grandma stayed at my house with me but my father was not around. He was constantly at the hospital and work, making literal life or death situations for my mother. I knew that something horrible had happened, but the reality of the situation hadn’t sunk in. The following Tuesday morning, I hopped out of bed, following my daily routine to get ready for school. Even though the stroke had happened, I had not missed a day at school and kept to myself. Although that tuesday morning was different. My father had stumbled in the door, looking exhausted and shaken