Smile
It Could Be For The Last Time
A wise person once told me when I was 15-years-old that every once in a while, we've all just got to smile. No matter the troubles, or no matter the pains. That wise person was my mother and ever since then, I lived my life by those words. It seemed as if nothing on heaven, hell, or earth could bring me down.
That was all before my mother and I found out that she was dying from brain cancer. The doctor had said that she only have three years to live. I was 16 when we found out. We cried and hugged of course, but after all, we were Parkers and we moved on and did everything we could together before those three years were up.
Those three years passed and I did everything I could for my mom's burial (with the help of the remaining relatives that had come down from wherever): got the flowers ready, the preacher was picked, the flier written, guests that we both loved and knew, and her casket picked out. Everything one finds at a burial was done and yet I knew that somehow, my life would never be the same because of this. And somehow I was right.
A wise person once told me when I was 15-years-old that every once in a while, we've all just got to smile. No matter the troubles, or no matter the pains. That wise person was my mother. Since her death, I have not smiled or laughed—just walked around like a zombie, turning in homework and answering questions directed towards me.
I’m 19-years-old and I had to bury my mother.
That was all before my mother and I found out that she was dying from brain cancer. The doctor had said that she only have three years to live. I was 16 when we found out. We cried and hugged of course, but after all, we were Parkers and we moved on and did everything we could together before those three years were up.
Those three years passed and I did everything I could for my mom's burial (with the help of the remaining relatives that had come down from wherever): got the flowers ready, the preacher was picked, the flier written, guests that we both loved and knew, and her casket picked out. Everything one finds at a burial was done and yet I knew that somehow, my life would never be the same because of this. And somehow I was right.
A wise person once told me when I was 15-years-old that every once in a while, we've all just got to smile. No matter the troubles, or no matter the pains. That wise person was my mother. Since her death, I have not smiled or laughed—just walked around like a zombie, turning in homework and answering questions directed towards me.
I’m 19-years-old and I had to bury my mother.
11/16/12