it's not shakespeare, but its a tragedy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
i have gone through some hardships in life, but in the end i am stronger than anything.

Submitted: December 03, 2015

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Submitted: December 03, 2015

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“It’s Not Shakespeare, But It’s A Tragedy”

 

On the day November 11 ,2001 the most traumatic experience happened , My father passed away.  At Arden Hill Hospital my father was suffering with pain as well as lung cancer due to smoking.  By the time they had caught it, the cancer was at the last and final stage.  Throughout my life I have dealt with a lot but this is the one thing that has shaped me into the strong woman I am today.

Back in September of 2001, I had just turned five years old, this means I was just starting school. Before my dad was confined to the hospital to start his treatment, the one thing that he wanted to do was see his baby girl get on the bus.  Then my family took him back to the hospital in his Crown Victoria: his favorite car he ever owned. The car was brown to the point where it looked like it was made out of wood.  So then when I went to the hospital every day after school I brought along my big book of stencils, for him I brought paper and a pencil and I’d trace for him the alphabet, circus people, under the sea creatures or on land animals.  This is how I learned how to recite the alphabet backwards(by writing it forwards then reading it backwards out loud). Since he chose to get better for me and me alone because I am the baby of the family he wanted to be able to see me get married one day, he missed me so we gave him my first school picture in a glass frame that he was able to keep at the side of his hospital bed. In the picture I had pigtails,a white shirt,and my pink metal glasses.

On the 11th day of November something had happened that my family had to make the choice of resuscitating him or not. Their final decision was to make sure he wouldn’t feel the pain and suffering. Me being a clueless five year old who adults choose to lie to or hide things from had no idea that he had even died.  The next thing we were working on was the collage to be placed by his casket. To “ pretty it up” we made construction paper hearts with the heart shape cutter we had.  The thing that was most important to me after finishing that project was to find something to put into the casket.  Again I was a five year old what could I have to put in there? So I resorted to my closet. In my closet contained clothing, games, Barbie dolls, Barbie clothes and stuffed animals. So I finally found something after flinging everything I had out of it and I found this small Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal.  I’m not sure why it was that I had Chose Winnie the Pooh out of everything I had, but I had to give him something.

The next day I remember this huge black limo showing up in the driveway to drive us to Flushing Queens. Then once we got there and I realized my daddy was in this box on the altar. I ended up yelling “Get my daddy out of the box right now!”.  In the interim my family tried to explain to me why he was in there. The reasons they came up with were to help Scooby Doo up in heaven, to play cards with Grandpa, and to help God in heaven. Well, “Why does he have to help?” I asked several times, not getting any answers.

The next thing I remember is being at the Flushing Cemetery. This is where he and my mother both grew up. Plus, this is where my Grandparents(on both sides of the family) are buried. As the ceremony went on and was coming to an end, I was the first one to put a single red rose on the casket.  Somehow I figured out at this time that, that was it, that was the last time I was going to see him.

On a good note, I still think about him day to day and I think what would it be like if he was still alive today? Would it be remotely different? Would I be happy? Yes, I still have my mother who loves me so, but the fact that a piece of me is missing. On the way to Orange County Community College campus I pass by the park we used to always go to. We actually had a routine. First we went to Sunoco (a gas station) and he bought me Gatorade and Pringles, either cheddar or sour cream and onion. Then we made our way around the corner to Airplane park or Crane park. At the park the number one thing I wanted/ needed to be able to do was do the monkey bars, so my dad would put me on his shoulders and I would touch each of the bars as if I was swinging from each one to the next. This is one of my favorite memories because It’s the only one that is the most vivid.

One of the weirdest things after he passed was that in my mom’s car I used to see the rectangular shape of his glasses on the ceiling. I was the only one who has the ability to see it. It was like he was watching me and protecting me from any possible danger. But, now I don’t see anything in the car, for example what I saw one day was his spirit standing in the crack of my door watching me. I was so terrified that I hid underneath the blankets contemplating my next move. What should I do? Yell for my mom? Should I ignore the fact that I saw him? So I made a quick decision which was put the blanket over me covering my face and run across the way into my mothers’ room. Another thing that happens is while I’m sitting in my room alone doing homework or watching television I feel him touch my shoulder. How do I know? because I sense that its him plus I feel tingling. Each time he does something new I get scared but why should I be scared that is ridiculous. Its my own father who is supposed to be protective and just wants to keep and eye on me.

A few years ago my mother gave me a few things of his, I am not sure why but I am definitely glad she did.Those things were his license, his yellow plastic mug and a keychain.  The keychain used to have his voice recorded on it saying, “Hello Alana”, but that was before we tried to change the battery. Now his voice is muffled and ruined. The yellow mug was what he drank milk out of every single night. I remember a few times I woke up because I heard him come home and we would watch The Jetsons together and I had my own clear plastic cup that was like a snow globe: you shook it and the stuff on the inside moved. But, the stuff in the cup looked like sprinkles. One specifically I remember I had was a winter one that had blue tiny snowflakes in it. Lastly, my dad and I would sit in their room and eat Haribo gummy bears and watch Scooby Doo together because I was very obsessed with it.

In conclusion, thirteen years later I am still dealing with this traumatic event. The loss of my best friend, the one missing piece of my heart, my father. As I always know he is at my side nothing can go wrong. No matter how much I love him, all respect given, I am glad he is in heaven now. He doesn’t have to deal with the pain and suffering that he was. In turn, I am the one dealing with the suffering and my own type of pain. In the long run, I’m as strong as I will ever be. It’s a tough thing losing a parent because of the emptiness, I honestly don’t know what I am going to do when It’s my mothers’ time.


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