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so here's my memoir. read it and comment. it's long. it was really tough writing it, but lori made me laugh along the way. so thanks, lori. ♥
“See and accept yourself as a part of nature. Remember that it is natural to conclude your living by dying. Accept your mortality and try to leave this world with inner peace.”
Watching the seven o’clock news has become an ordinary part of my daily routine over the years. Hearing about shoplifters, new medications, politics, murders, kidnappings, and rape has all, unfortunately, become familiar and almost expected. I have grown accustomed to hearing about tragic accidents ending in serious injuries and often, deaths. Many viewers, like myself, find these events most unfortunate, but can’t help thinking that it’s just another accident. It could never happen to me.
Death is defined as the termination of life. Is it really that simple? To me, it’s more like the tragic ending of the latest drama on the Lifetime channel. It’s not real, it couldn’t be! If only I had learned sooner.
It was in February of my fourth grade year. I can’t quite remember the date but the night plays through my mind like a movie. Mom had just left the house to do some grocery shopping at Publix. I sat on the couch, watching television, like every other night, when my dad walked into the living room.
“Do you remember your cousin, Raul?” he approached me, as I lay curled up on the couch, watching my favorite cartoon.
“Of course!” I said, smiling at the mere thought of my amazing cousin. My smile faded, as I noticed my father’s face was not as bright and cheery as it was on any other day.
“What happened?” I was beginning to get worried. Millions of thoughts were racing through my head. What could have possibly happened to him?
“He was in a car accident...”
“But he’s okay, right? Did he break any bones?” I had gotten up from my position, and the cartoons still played on the television, as it would on any normal day. However, this wasn’t any normal day. Not to me, at least.
“Worse.”
“Did he crack his head open, or something?!” It was fourth grade, and I couldn’t think of anything “worse” than breaking a bone. After all, death wasn’t real to me.
“Adriana...” My father’s face was unforgettable. “He died instantly.”
There was a moment of silence. It seemed like years were passing by as I continued to stare my father in the eye. The cartoons that were once the highlight of my night seemed to annoy me more than ever. I thought the world would stop at a moment like this.
I hoped the cheerfullness would return to my father’s face. I hoped my cousin would come running into the living room to tickle me until I cried of laughter. I hoped he would come out from behind the couch and scare me, like he always did. I hoped and hoped and hoped. I will not forget the feeling I got when I looked around the room and he wasn’t there.
For what seemed like centuries, I sat there, staring at my father in disbelief. I drowned out the voice of little Tommy Pickles from my favorite television program, Rugrats, the show that used to have my full attention for half an hour every night. I never missed it.
This night was different. I could care less if the show never aired again. All that mattered to me was seeing my cousin’s face again. I’ll never forget his smile. I had visited him in Peru a few summers back, and we were always laughing. I still remember the feeling I got when I was around him. The pain in my stomach, when I laughed so hard that I cried. I called him 'Rhino' and he called me "Alligator."
I buried my face in the mountain of pillows on the couch. The tears seemed endless, as did the pain in my whole body. There is no pain worse than losing someone. We all get bruises, scratches, cuts, and broken bones, but those can be fixed. Death can’t. I would never see my cousin again, and it seemed impossible to believe.
I heard my mom’s car in the distance. She was home with millions of bags of groceries, and I would have to help her unload them. I always did. The world hadn’t stopped and eventually I would have to get up, but I felt as though I’d never leave that corner of the couch. I felt like I’d cry forever, but I couldn’t. I had to be strong for my mom. I walked past the table, grabbed a napkin, and wiped away as many tears as I could before soaking it up.
It was chilly and dark outside. The wind blew through the trees, the crickets chirped, and my mom was standing at the trunk of the car, unloading groceries. I came up to her side, and started to help her unload, until she saw my face.
“What’s wrong?” she looked at me with the most caring face. This was the same face she gave me when I had problems with friends at school. Why didn’t anyone understand that today was different?
“Mami...Rhino died.” I covered my tear-stained face with my shaky hands.
“Who?” She moved away my hands, and looked me in the eye. It hurt so much to repeat it. I never wanted to say it again. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.
“Raul.”
With this, she held me in her arms, and we cried together, outside on our driveway. The reality struck, and I realized there was nothing I could do about it. He was gone, and I would never look at life the same way again.
“Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
I didn’t see my cousin as much as I would have wanted to. We lived in two different countries, and I honestly don’t remember much about him, only that he made me happy, and that I loved him. I still do, very much. Although Raul is not here physically, our relationship is still strong, and will be forever. He’s still my Rhino, and I’m still his Alligator.
Love wins. Love always wins.
Rest in peace, Raul. I love you.
so that's my memoir. he was 15 years old when it happened. i'm still not over it. life's way too short.
“See and accept yourself as a part of nature. Remember that it is natural to conclude your living by dying. Accept your mortality and try to leave this world with inner peace.”
Watching the seven o’clock news has become an ordinary part of my daily routine over the years. Hearing about shoplifters, new medications, politics, murders, kidnappings, and rape has all, unfortunately, become familiar and almost expected. I have grown accustomed to hearing about tragic accidents ending in serious injuries and often, deaths. Many viewers, like myself, find these events most unfortunate, but can’t help thinking that it’s just another accident. It could never happen to me.
Death is defined as the termination of life. Is it really that simple? To me, it’s more like the tragic ending of the latest drama on the Lifetime channel. It’s not real, it couldn’t be! If only I had learned sooner.
It was in February of my fourth grade year. I can’t quite remember the date but the night plays through my mind like a movie. Mom had just left the house to do some grocery shopping at Publix. I sat on the couch, watching television, like every other night, when my dad walked into the living room.
“Do you remember your cousin, Raul?” he approached me, as I lay curled up on the couch, watching my favorite cartoon.
“Of course!” I said, smiling at the mere thought of my amazing cousin. My smile faded, as I noticed my father’s face was not as bright and cheery as it was on any other day.
“What happened?” I was beginning to get worried. Millions of thoughts were racing through my head. What could have possibly happened to him?
“He was in a car accident...”
“But he’s okay, right? Did he break any bones?” I had gotten up from my position, and the cartoons still played on the television, as it would on any normal day. However, this wasn’t any normal day. Not to me, at least.
“Worse.”
“Did he crack his head open, or something?!” It was fourth grade, and I couldn’t think of anything “worse” than breaking a bone. After all, death wasn’t real to me.
“Adriana...” My father’s face was unforgettable. “He died instantly.”
There was a moment of silence. It seemed like years were passing by as I continued to stare my father in the eye. The cartoons that were once the highlight of my night seemed to annoy me more than ever. I thought the world would stop at a moment like this.
I hoped the cheerfullness would return to my father’s face. I hoped my cousin would come running into the living room to tickle me until I cried of laughter. I hoped he would come out from behind the couch and scare me, like he always did. I hoped and hoped and hoped. I will not forget the feeling I got when I looked around the room and he wasn’t there.
For what seemed like centuries, I sat there, staring at my father in disbelief. I drowned out the voice of little Tommy Pickles from my favorite television program, Rugrats, the show that used to have my full attention for half an hour every night. I never missed it.
This night was different. I could care less if the show never aired again. All that mattered to me was seeing my cousin’s face again. I’ll never forget his smile. I had visited him in Peru a few summers back, and we were always laughing. I still remember the feeling I got when I was around him. The pain in my stomach, when I laughed so hard that I cried. I called him 'Rhino' and he called me "Alligator."
I buried my face in the mountain of pillows on the couch. The tears seemed endless, as did the pain in my whole body. There is no pain worse than losing someone. We all get bruises, scratches, cuts, and broken bones, but those can be fixed. Death can’t. I would never see my cousin again, and it seemed impossible to believe.
I heard my mom’s car in the distance. She was home with millions of bags of groceries, and I would have to help her unload them. I always did. The world hadn’t stopped and eventually I would have to get up, but I felt as though I’d never leave that corner of the couch. I felt like I’d cry forever, but I couldn’t. I had to be strong for my mom. I walked past the table, grabbed a napkin, and wiped away as many tears as I could before soaking it up.
It was chilly and dark outside. The wind blew through the trees, the crickets chirped, and my mom was standing at the trunk of the car, unloading groceries. I came up to her side, and started to help her unload, until she saw my face.
“What’s wrong?” she looked at me with the most caring face. This was the same face she gave me when I had problems with friends at school. Why didn’t anyone understand that today was different?
“Mami...Rhino died.” I covered my tear-stained face with my shaky hands.
“Who?” She moved away my hands, and looked me in the eye. It hurt so much to repeat it. I never wanted to say it again. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.
“Raul.”
With this, she held me in her arms, and we cried together, outside on our driveway. The reality struck, and I realized there was nothing I could do about it. He was gone, and I would never look at life the same way again.
“Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
I didn’t see my cousin as much as I would have wanted to. We lived in two different countries, and I honestly don’t remember much about him, only that he made me happy, and that I loved him. I still do, very much. Although Raul is not here physically, our relationship is still strong, and will be forever. He’s still my Rhino, and I’m still his Alligator.
Love wins. Love always wins.
Rest in peace, Raul. I love you.
so that's my memoir. he was 15 years old when it happened. i'm still not over it. life's way too short.