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Facing Your Demons

By , Freeport, NY
It was the cold, eerie morning of February 8th, 2011 when I had I heard the muffled buzzing of my alarm clock. After aggressively pressing snooze three times, the alarm clock had fallen between the old night stand and the mattress. Immediately jumping up, the clock read 6:52 A.M. Although it had come to my knowledge that I would never be capable of making the bus at 7:06, I rushed to pack a lunch, eat my breakfast, get dressed, and brush through the frizzy frenzy in my hair. Leaving the house at approximately 7:05, I made the decision that there was no time to say goodbye to my grandmother lying on the couch, her back turned to me. Little did I know I would regret this decision every single day for the rest of my life...That would be the last I’d ever see my grandmother.

After missing the bus to school, my mother grew increasingly impatient with me, and like any mother would, lectured me as she drove me to school. I found it relatively easy to block her out, but ultimately, my mood had been ruined. After what seemed to be an endless day of classes and endless amounts of work, I had been looking forward to sitting with a few close friends after school. Needless to say, I never got that opportunity to sit with my friends that day. Slowly walking into the cafeteria, I noticed I had been dragging my feet; but another thing I had noticed was my mother standing across the way. Without knowledge of what had been occurring, I simply smiled and asked her, “What are you doing here?” She did not smile back. Instead, she frowned as the big, wet tears fell down her perfectly round face. I found this to be more terrifying than odd, because when it came down it, I had never actually seen my mother cry. My mother had been one of the strongest women I ever known, overcoming every battle and fighting every demon that has crossed her path. Knowing the answer, but not wanting to believe it, I simply looked down at my dirty, torn penny loafers as I bit my lower lip. Without intention, the words blurted from my mother’s mouth, “Abuela passed away this morning.” A rush of adrenaline overcame me as I screamed back, “No she didn’t, that’s not funny!” Without another word, I walked away from my mother and out of the cafeteria as a single tear fell from my left eye. I remember exactly what eye my first tear had fallen from because in that moment I had remembered how I had come across an article on the internet informing many that when your first tear falls from your left eye, it indicates pain-pain. That’s all I had felt-pain.

For two years, I found myself hating not only myself, but the world around me. I had blamed everybody and everything for my grandmother’s passing. I had found myself hurting in unimaginable ways. I had found myself crying to sleep each night, asking why? Why had this happened? Why my grandmother? But in those two years, I had also found myself. Although in the moment I hadn’t seen it due to my blindness from depression, I one day found myself accepting. After two long, difficult years, I had finally come to accept that wherever she may be, she’s happier there. She would not want me to lie around crying for her every day, when I’m in the prime of my life. Dreams cannot be fulfilled if I lie down and die with her. Therefore I grew to learn that not every day is guaranteed, and each day should be used wisely-living it fully. Life is a precious, but fragile thing; one should never take it for granted.



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