Cold Saturday

April 8, 2008
It was just like yesterday. I felt her warm hand in mine begging her not to leave me. Pleading for her to stay here with me. It was just not fair. Every girl in my 1st grade class had a mom. Why couldn’t I?
I remember that cold Saturday. It was strange. My older brothers and sisters told me just to get in the van. Normally I wouldn’t do anything they said but that day I did. Their eyes were full of anguish. The drive seemed like an endless run of bumps and curves. I did not know what was going on. I was ignorant about the situation my mom was in. My curiosity was soon settled but when I found out the truth I’d rather have stayed with the curiosity than to hear that tormenting news. My mom was going to die. My father’s lips trembled as he spoke those words. After the word death I heard nothing else. My heart was too busy pounding itself out of my chest. I broke down in millions of tears and soon I was unconscious about my actions. I was pacing back and forth in the waiting room of the horrendous hospital. The hospital my mom was soon to be found dead. “But how long?”, I soon found myself asking. “How long until she goes?” I knew the response by the tears floating in my dad’s eyes. Only a couple of hours. My life rushed upon me and I knew what was going to happen. I glanced around the room and saw the eerie look on all my brother’s and sister’s faces. How could the mother of 8 children just leave? How could this be possible? A great depression fell upon all my family but not as bad until they let us in to see her.
I walked quietly behind my brother’s into my mom’s room. It was all over. She wasn’t dead but she might as well been since she was brain dead. I can remember the words my dad told us while we were in here room, “Speak to her. She may not be able to answer you, but she is always listening.” The only thought in my mind was to tell her how much I love her.
The rest of the night was torture. No one wanted to leave the waiting room so they can wait for the doctor to say the words. No one could sleep. No one spoke a word. No one did anything. In my mind all I could do is pray. A seven year old child shouldn’t suffer. Not like this. The night passed by and nothing happened. The next day agony filled the room yet nothing happened. My mother was living. The doctor’s gave her a couple of hours and yet she is still living. The days passed by and I started to believe my mom would survive. She was going to live and we would all be a happy family again.
The night of August 23, 2000 finally everyone reached the point that they thought everything would be fine. We all left to a hotel to shower and rest. That night I thanked God that he was letting my mom survive. As I fell into a deep slumber I heard my older sister wake me. She said “Hurry, we need to go!” I didn’t know why? When we reached the hospital they announced her dead. Just as my hopes were high in the sky she died.
August 24, 2000 Margarita Luna, wife, daughter, sister and mother of 8 was announced deceased.

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Rocio said...
Dec. 5, 2008 at 12:51 am
This is the best thing ever!!!!
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