Chapter 2:

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 209
Comments: 5

Dear Diary,
Today I went to Jack’s, my uncle John’s dad, funeral.  He passed away from cancer like my sister.  He loved my sister a lot.  He thought the world of her, but then, who didn’t?  She was an amazing, strong, and smart little girl.  He fought it for two years, but he was also at an old age so he didn’t have a very good chance.  It was lung cancer that beat him; unlike brain cancer that beat my sister.  
This funeral was the first funeral I’ve been to since my sister Katie’s funeral three years ago.  It was extremely hard to see them carry a casket; I couldn’t bring myself to look at him laying there.  I’m sure he looked peaceful, but I know he would have understood.  It’s just too hard.  It’s been so long, but sometimes it is as hard as it used to be.  It seems like I didn’t make it anywhere on some days.  I remember so many things.  
Katie was a funny girl.  She loved hoola hooping, and she was amazing at it.  I was always the jump roper while she hoola hooped away.  No matter the metaport in her stomach, she still found a way to.  She always wore hats too because of having no hair.  
Katie was first diagnosed with cancer when she was almost three years old.  A cancer called Alveolar Rhabdomyosarcoma.  A disease that causes tumors neck and up.  The first tumor was in front of her ear.  I remember when it wouldn’t stop growing so mom and dad took her to the hospital.  There is where everything began.  After she went into remission (period of time cancer-free), she was cancer free for four years.  Five years is the mark that people try to make it to because that’s when they tell you have officially beat it.  Although, you still have to get check ups to make sure that it has not come back.  It was devastating to know it would start over again.  That tumor was between her top jaw and her eye.  It was bigger than the size of a softball.  When they removed that they ended up taking out her cheek bone on that side, and part of her top pallet.  This caused her to need a Traci and a feeding tube in her stomach.  After this she was diagnosed with a tumor behind her eyes.  At this time she got her eye removed because it was dieing from protruding so much.  Then, she became immune to the treatments, and mom and dad didn’t want to do any experimental treatments.  Katie had said she didn’t want anymore surgeries or treatments, and she understood that that meant she would pass away.  She actually thought she wouldn’t make it to ten years old.  Afterwards, the tumor developed into a brain tumor and she went into a coma.  
I came home on a Monday.  I knew this was coming so when I got in the car and my uncle Donny was sitting in the passenger seat, I knew something was up.  I attempted to ask, but they would not answer me.  The doctor said she only had a couple of hours left.  He was wrong.  
When I got in the house they told me I should see if she would squeeze my hand anymore; that she had for them just a little bit ago.  She wouldn’t anymore though, and that hurt a lot.  What hurt the most was having to say goodbye.  Everyone said Katie’s relationship with me was stronger than her relationship with anyone else, so you can imagine saying goodbye was extremely hard.  I didn’t want to say goodbye to her.  I wanted her to open her eyes, or at least just squeeze my hand one last time.  I didn’t know that the night before when I said, “Night, love you.” would be the last night I said that to her.  Now I had to tell her it was ok to let go.  That it was ok to leave me and go to heaven.  When I didn’t want it to be ok.  I wasn’t ready; I wasn’t prepared for her to leave.
This affected me a lot.  I started breaking down all the time.  I started getting on chat rooms.  That’s where I met a guy that started helping me.  He was an adult, and I know now that it was wrong.  But he made me realize that my life wasn’t normal.  He was like my psychiatrist I guess.  We’d have sessions.  Always at night when I was home alone.  He would try to get me to call numbers, but I couldn’t.  At one point I ended up telling a camp counselor that I had bruises from my dad, and what he had done.  She called child services.  My parents forced me to tell them everything.  They told me that it was so they could fight it, and they got really upset if I didn’t.  Mom and gram would ask me why I did that, why I hated them, why I wanted to be taken away.  Those were the last things I wanted.  I just wanted to have a home and real parents.  
This all ended in the child services not being able to do anything.  The guy that was assigned to me believed my parents, and eventually left, and I never heard from again.  I honestly never want to hear from him again.  I am terrified of them.  Every time I go to the school counselor I start shaking.  I think he’s in there.  That he’s going to screw up my life again.  I don’t want to hurt my parents again.  
Sorry, I got side tracked.  You needed to know that though.  I really am sorry though, I feel like I am talking too much.  It’s just I have to explain everything so that you understand.  I need someone to understand.  
Let’s get back to the funeral.  At the funeral my uncle John came up to me and gave me a hug and kissed me on the forehead.  To you maybe that isn’t a big deal, but to me it was amazing.  He cares about me.  Right then and there I wanted to tell him everything.  All of my secrets.  All that I am hurting inside.  That I just want him to take me in, and take me away from this house.  The problem is, he treats my mom like he is her real brother when he is her brother-in-law.  I don’t want to ruin their relationship.  Then again, he might not even believe me.  I think he knows though.  I know his wife, my aunt, Beth knows.  At least I think she does.  When she calls and I say mom and dad aren’t home she says right off the bat, “They’re at the club aren’t they?”  I try to say, “I don’t know where they are.”  But she knows I’m lying.  Maybe she would understand.  I don’t know, I don’t want to risk it.  I’m scared to.  
I just want someone to see through me, and see what I’m hiding.  See that I’m breaking inside.  Because there is only so much that I can deal with.  I guess I should tell you what happens.  
My gram hates me, and she lives with us.  Everything I do is wrong with her.  When I was like five she would lock me out of the house for over an hour.  She wouldn’t let me in no matter how much I kicked the door.  She used to tell me that she never wanted to see my face again.  She always tells me that she doesn’t care what I do.  It’s true though.  She doesn’t care.  If it doesn’t involve her, it doesn’t matter.  But she wouldn’t miss the chance to tell my parents what I’ve done wrong.  
My mom.  She’s an alcoholic.  She never believes that I am sick.  Most recently I’ve had a stomach problem.  This was about 7 months ago.  I told her after about 2 months of having stomach pain that my stomach was bothering me and eventually she called my doctor.  I got a cat scan but nothing showed up, so she didn’t believe me anymore.  For four months I kept telling her I was having stomach pain.  It wasn’t until I started throwing up at 3 in the morning, every ten minutes, that she took me to the emergency room.  But she waited until she was ready to get up.  Meaning I went to the E.R. at 9:30 in the morning.  By that time I was extremely dehydrated, and they couldn’t even find a vein in my arm.  After that, my doctor planned more tests and a month later I got surgery to get my gallbladder removed.  I guess that would fall under the category of neglect for child abuse.  
Both of my parents are alcoholics actually, and they both treat me like their slave.  My mom has me go to work with her so I can do most of the work, and she can smoke a cigarette.  I forgot to tell you, my mom also is addicted to Excedrin (this she admitted to me), and I also think she is addicted to Benadryl.  She could be addicted to others, but I don’t really pay attention to it anymore.  My dad just has me do everything when my mom isn’t there.  Because when mom is there, she does everything for him.  Pretty much every night I am home alone and left to take care of the house, and make my own supper.  I don’t ask why they choose to go out anymore.  They used to tell me when Katie was sick that they deserved to have fun.  I guess to them I didn’t deserve to have fun, or have quality time with my parents.  
They deny they go out often.  They also deny they drink a lot.  But I have seen and heard (and smelled) them come home drunk.  They’ve also brought other people into the house at like one in the morning to drink in the living room while gram and I are trying to sleep.  
Them drinking, and me being home alone isn’t really that bad.  It’s being treated like a slave, but not getting rewarded.  My mom isn’t paying me for working.  Dad isn’t even saying thank you.  They don’t even tell me they are leaving anymore.  They just walk out the door, and don’t lock it either.  I wonder if they even care about me.  It doesn’t seem like it.  I know my mom doesn’t want to lose another kid because I’m the only one she has left.  But she is going to lose me.  As soon as I’m eighteen I’m moving out.  I am 16 now.  
Ugh I feel so bad for this entry being so long.  I will let you go now.  There will be more tomorrow night!  Talk to you soon.  Thank you for listening.  I am sorry for it being so long.  Goodnight now!

Love,Thursday, June 24th, 2010.  9:03 pm

Submitted: June 24, 2010

© Copyright 2020 DearDiaryWriter. All rights reserved.


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Add Your Comments:



wow that's so sad and I can kinda relate to that. lol. update me?

Fri, June 25th, 2010 6:16am


I will definitely update you :) I should have a couple more chapters posted today after work :) Thank you so much for reading!

Thu, June 24th, 2010 11:50pm


this is just too sad :(

Fri, June 25th, 2010 10:04pm


I'm sorry.

Sat, June 26th, 2010 12:10am

Brii Morris

Aww, dude, you're actually, in all honesty, going to put me in depression. I'm holding back tears right no- oh, no, they just overflowed.
Sad, really sad.
Next entry now.

Sun, June 27th, 2010 12:45pm


Awww I'm sorry for making you cry.

Sun, June 27th, 2010 6:01am


Um....I like the premise, it's not done often and I think you have a great start. I can't say I love it. But not because you write badly, because it has no up points to help lift my (the reader's ) spirit. Even in depressing stories you must have these. It help us (the readers) to sympathize with this poor girl. have talent, and I like your style. So keep writing and if you have anything else you wish me to read, just let me know. :)

Sun, June 27th, 2010 1:52pm


Will do. I was actually thinking the same. I am trying to liven it up in the later chapters. I have a habit of being too depressing :-p even though I'm a happy girl. Isn't that weird? lol thank you for reading and commenting! It means a lot, and thank you so much for the criticism. It really does help! :)

Sun, June 27th, 2010 7:02am


lol LUUUUVVIITTT! but i only hav one question.... wat is a metaport?

Tue, June 29th, 2010 9:28pm


A metaport is just something that's in their stomach to make it easier to give them medicines. Since its really hard to find a vein in a person with cancer, they use this instead, and also so they don't have to get poked over and over. It's very convenient. I'm really glad you like it :) Thanks so much for commenting!

Tue, June 29th, 2010 10:51pm