The Hardest Thing I Have Ever Done
The Hardest Thing I have Ever Done
The hardest thing I have ever had to do was suffer through the death of my father. That day started out like any other day. We were in church and everything seemed normal. Then, the person in front of us got a phone call. She left and shortly after came back and retrieved my mother. Immediately, my mother came back in and got me and my sister, and we went to the car. When we got to the car, Mom started to tell us how my dad had shot himself. I did not know what to think. We quickly rushed to my grandmother’s house to find out what they were going to do. We got there the same time as the ambulance was leaving. They told us he was still alive, but he was not good and they were rushing him to the hospital.
We quickly left my grandparent's house and rushed to the emergency room at the hospital in Tupelo. The drive seemed like forever, but yet, we made the fifty mile trip in record time. Everyone in the family was put in a room for what seemed like ages. Finally, they emergency room nurse came in and said he was on life support but he was stable and could see him. They told us the machines were all that was keeping him alive and to prepare for the worst. We finally got to see him one more time. Together, we all went back there and that’s when we decided that he didn’t need to suffer anymore. So, the decision was made to take him off life support, and we prepared for the days ahead.
The next few days went by fast. I tried not to think about the funeral, but it seemed like my mind kept drifting to the fact that he was gone. It seemed so unreal that it had happened. I just could not understand why. As the next few weeks progressed. I begin to blame myself, because I had felt that it was my fault. My family and friends tried to talk to me, but that would just make me angrier.
This tragic event rocked the very foundation of my childhood. My mother and I would argue a lot, because of it. It was like I blamed her for leaving
The hardest thing I have ever had to do was suffer through the death of my father. That day started out like any other day. We were in church and everything seemed normal. Then, the person in front of us got a phone call. She left and shortly after came back and retrieved my mother. Immediately, my mother came back in and got me and my sister, and we went to the car. When we got to the car, Mom started to tell us how my dad had shot himself. I did not know what to think. We quickly rushed to my grandmother’s house to find out what they were going to do. We got there the same time as the ambulance was leaving. They told us he was still alive, but he was not good and they were rushing him to the hospital.
We quickly left my grandparent's house and rushed to the emergency room at the hospital in Tupelo. The drive seemed like forever, but yet, we made the fifty mile trip in record time. Everyone in the family was put in a room for what seemed like ages. Finally, they emergency room nurse came in and said he was on life support but he was stable and could see him. They told us the machines were all that was keeping him alive and to prepare for the worst. We finally got to see him one more time. Together, we all went back there and that’s when we decided that he didn’t need to suffer anymore. So, the decision was made to take him off life support, and we prepared for the days ahead.
The next few days went by fast. I tried not to think about the funeral, but it seemed like my mind kept drifting to the fact that he was gone. It seemed so unreal that it had happened. I just could not understand why. As the next few weeks progressed. I begin to blame myself, because I had felt that it was my fault. My family and friends tried to talk to me, but that would just make me angrier.
This tragic event rocked the very foundation of my childhood. My mother and I would argue a lot, because of it. It was like I blamed her for leaving