|
Coping With the Death of a Parent
"I’d rather go to the bowling alley with my daddy to watch football than go shopping with my mother for stuff around the house."
By Ayesha Walker
My father and I had a really close relationship. I guess you could say I was a daddy’s girl. I’d rather go to the bowling alley with my daddy to watch football than go shopping with my mother for stuff around the house. I was a tomboy, my daddy wanted a boy. He sure turned me into one. I spent the majority of my time with him.
I was eleven years old when he passed away. I was at home when I found out. I remember the day as if it were yesterday. My Uncle Billy and Auntie Lee pulled up to my grandma’s house. They never come over. My grandmother lives directly across the street from me. I ran across the street to see my uncle and aunt. She didn’t look good, but my uncle held his up pretty well.
When I went inside, I said hello to my aunt and uncle, but my grandma yelled at me and told me to get out of her house. She always yells at me and tells me to get out, I was used to it. I started to stand by the door and eavesdrop, but something told me not to, so I didn’t. At that moment my mother was at work. She came home early. I was outside playing with my little cousin when my Uncle called my cousin in the house.
He went in and came out crying. I didn’t know what was wrong with him and he wouldn’t tell me. My Uncle Kevin came outside crying too. Never in my life have I seen my uncle cry! That scared me, but I still didn’t know what was wrong. Everyone knew something I didn’t! What was it? Why isn’t anyone telling me about it? My Uncle Kevin finally told me my mom wanted me across the street.
I walked outside of the garage and it seemed like a million cars were outside. I walked inside my grandma’s house to see everyone in tears except my grandma. At the time, my grandpa was in the hospital and I thought it was him that passed away. I got weak. I got nervous and started to tremble, I cried.
My mom looked at me and asked me did I know what happened. I said, “Grandpa died.” She said, “No, your Daddy.” I couldn’t believe it. I refused to believe it, I was in denial. I couldn’t feel the legs that were holding me up. People started grabbing me. I couldn’t breath. My heart was pounding. I finally fell. I fell to my knees then I buried my face in my grandma’s carpet. I felt hands grabbing me. I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I wanted my daddy! I wanted my best friend.
I cried myself to sleep that night, hoping and wishing this were all a bad dream, hoping it would go away. But it was no bad dream. It was reality. It was something I had to learn to deal with. I loved my mom just as much as my father, but it was just that I spent most of my time with him.
My family was hurt. The bridge that connected me with my father’s side of the family was broken. I felt I had no relations with them at all. Weeks passed, months, then years. I would always think of him, dream of him. I would cry to myself every now and then. My mother and I rarely cried together. I don’t think she liked crying around me and I most definitely didn’t like crying in front of her. We cried to ourselves.
I started going to church more. I prayed to God, asking for strength. I asked him to strengthen my mother and also myself. We learned to cope with it. Practicing Christianity with my mother has allowed me to realize that everything happens for a reason.
|
|
