Ortiz 1

Kimberly Ortiz

Professor Batty

English 028

8 October 2017

In His Memory

I was seven years of age, yet I remember that day as if it were yesterday. That morning, I

woke up on my bedroom floor. Bruised from my back, I got up and ignored the fact that I had

fallen out of bed and continued that morning with my regular routine: took a hot, steamy shower,

brushed my teeth with Colgate, dressed in my school uniform, and got my hair pulled by the

brush my father was combing me with. He tugged and tugged on my hair until, my head

throbbed and ached. Finally, I was eating my breakfast, some frosted flakes with bananas. My

food had been sitting for a while that when I took a spoonful of it the flakes were soggy and the

bananas had an odd milky taste. My father rushed me to eat quickly as he started to raise his

voice and once the clock hit 7:30 sharp we ran out the door racing against time. We drove

towards my aunts apartment where we picked up three of my cousins, and we raced off to

school as the morning quickly slipped away. Once we arrived, one by one we got off the car; I

stayed behind to give my father a goodbye kiss.

Bye papi, te quiero mucho.

Bye mija, ahi tienes cuidado.

We kissed each other on the cheek and gave each other a big hug. None of us knew that it would

be the last time we said goodbye.

 Ortiz 2

That day afterschool, I walked to my grandmothers house along with my cousins. We

quickly ran into her house excited to see our mothers and aunts there; sitting, gossiping, and

talking about their day. After we greeted all of them with hugs and kisses we ran towards the

dark hallway of the house and into one of the three lonely rooms where we started doing our

homework. Everything was going great; it was just like any other day. Until, all the voices that

had come from the living room had vanished. My cousins and I quickly raised with worry and

started walking out of that room slowly and we noticed everyone crying in the living room. I ran

towards my mother who looked devastated.

Whats wrong mami?

Nada hija, go back to the room and finish your homework.

I did as I was told and left the scene. It was only moments later when my mother called me back

because she had something very important to tell me. She sat me on her lap and hugged me

tightly.

I have to leave for a few days

Where are you going mom?

Im going to the hospital

My mother began to sob, but kept it together and continued.

your father had a terrible accident, and I have to go check up on him.

All eyes were on us, and I tried to keep my tears in. I tried to be as tough as my mother was. I

tried to understand and process what I had just been told. At the end, all I could do was shake my
 Ortiz 3

head to assure her I understood. Which was a total lie, but she left believing, or wanting to

believe I was fine.

Soon, news came to me that the only thing that kept my father alive was a respiratory

machine and it was time to let him go. So, I went to go see my fathers body one last time, but

lifeless. His body pale, cold, and just lying there without a movement; without a sound. There

were so many things I wanted to tell him that day, but I couldnt. There were too many people in

that room that it began to get too hot for me; too many bodies close together that I was able to

hear they breathe. I just wanted was to be alone with him for one second, but I couldnt. After

this tragic event, I was a total different person. I did not care about school. I did not care about

life. I did not care about anything or anyone anymore. I hated God and I hated the fact that

everyone was happy except me. My life had become an unhealthy routine: woke up half asleep

with no energy what so ever, went to school to just ignore every teacher I had, went back home

angry at everyone, laid in bed and stared at the wall, and thought until the sunny day faded away

and brought out the darkness of the night. Time always passed slower each day.

My thoughts and actions were nothing to be proud of and I started to understand it as I

got older. I knew what my father expected of me and it was not the person I had become. He

wanted me to be someone who tried to achieve any goal that I set up for myself or go beyond my

comfort zone. I just wanted to make him happy and to do so, I had closure. I wrote him a letter

with everything I wanted to say to him and I know he read it. I started to believe he was with me

all the time and I believed this more and more as I kept growing.

I started to realize that no one should ever give up after losing a loved one. Instead they

should strive for greatness in memory of them; thats what they would have wanted. I now know

that was what my father always wanted and will always want.