The last full family portrait I’ve had taken, where my mother, father, and my brother were present was in 2001, nine years ago. I was seven and I’m now fourteen, and ever since then my life has changed in all ways. In 2002 my parents took off in different directions in there lives, and separated. My mom had been gone two weeks when my dad picked me up from school; she was with him when my principal came outside to talk to my dad. When he came out, he looked upset and had a bad feeling; he got in the car and drove out of the parking lot. I didn’t know how bad it was till we got home, I was in my room playing with my barbies when my mom came in, she sat next to me and told me my grandma died. At first I didn’t get it, I mean how could a person who so close to me, so loved and caring, dies? My mom was crying as she watched my face go from confusion to shock until I was in her arms crying. My mom and dad went to the wake but left me, I couldn’t stand to see a person I loved so much in a coffin dead, knowing that she would never open her eyes again, never tell me she loved me, never rub my head to sleep again. When they got home my mom sat me on the couch told me she loved me, she held my hand and told me I should go to the funeral, to show my grandma that I loved her and say good bye. As any child, I respected and trusted my mom so I went. During the funeral, I couldn’t stop crying, I still didn’t comprehend that she wasn’t going to wake up. I was hoping that when I went up to the coffin, she would open her eyes and wake up. As I went to the coffin and looked into her face, I knew my wish wouldn’t come true. We left the funeral and went to the get together with family; my mom left the party early, and didn’t come back. About the next week my mom left while my brother and I were at school and my father was at work, when we got home, all of her stuff was gone and there was a note on the fridge saying that she loved my brother and I, and said she would see us again but she couldn’t be around my father. My dad grabbed a beer, went to the living and sat in his chair. My brother was 4 and didn’t understand what was going on but I couldn’t explain it to him, I barely understood myself. I don’t really remember much after that, for two weeks I was living in my own world, not understanding why my mom wasn’t home or why she hadn’t called me. Ever since then I haven’t forgiven myself, I feel I’m at blame for my parents splitting up, I feel as if I could have done something about it; but day by day I think more about and realize it was for the best. Due to my parents splitting, I now have a new brother and a new life. It is still hard sometimes but I know both my parents love me.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.01.2010

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