Personal Narrative: A Parent's Death

Some nights I dream about Michael. He’s coming home from college for christmas break and he’s brought a girl with him. Our family is sitting at the dinner table and he’s giving my sister’s new boyfriend a hard time. He’s sitting in the audience, whooping and hollering as I walk across the stage and receive my diploma. Other times, he’s standing in a waiting room, introducing my sisters and me to his little girl. I dream about all of the moments my family and I never got to have with him and my heart breaks every single time. Michael has been gone for almost 16 years and yet he is still with me every day. I dream about him and what could have been; what should have been. Michael’s death teaches me something new almost every day. I have learned what loss is, how to deal with it, and how to grow from it.
It is often said that losing a child is the worst experience a parent has to go through. Children are not supposed to die before their parents, but sometimes they do. On a June morning, my
It is not a breakup, you don’t just wake up on more morning and not feel the pain anymore. Every day, I consciously make the decision to get out of my bed and live. Often I would rather stay under the covers and sob for the brother I never got to know. It’s so easy to get caught up in my sadness and choose to hide from happiness, but that isn’t the point of loss. I am a firm believer that God does not take anything, or anyone, away without the intentions of a greater purpose. Michael changed my life. He has had an integral role in who I am. He changed my parents lives. He showed them an unconditional love. He changed my sisters lives in the same way that he did mine. Michael’s life had meaning as did his death. Hundreds of people attended his funeral, some of them complete strangers. I know that he impacted their lives as well, in a way that he might not have been able to do otherwise. There is a reason for