Personal Narrative: How Suicide Has Affected My Life

Many people, including close family members and friends, have passed away in my lifetime. But the one that undoubtedly had the most profound effect on my life and how I was shaped as a person was the suicide of my uncle when I was 10 years old. As soon as this particular death took place, my life was completely turned upside down, From a fairly stable childhood to a rocky, strange path that, in a way, forced me to become independent as the adult figures, such as my mother, used all of their time trying to pick up the pieces again. We just up and left, our happy little lives fading in the distance as we headed into unknown territory, and started over again. Our new home turned out to be the very house that the suicide had taken place in, a
house that I had always considered to be the source of many good memories, but was now shrouded by a strange dark feeling, especially when on the back porch, just near the back door. The choice was not ours, though; it would be immoral to let my grandmother live alone in that place, where she had lost both her husband of 45 years, and her son to suicide in less than a year. She had to be cared for by somebody, as the grief left her completely immobilized. And that responsibility fell solely on us.
The next 11 or so months, from May 2010, February 2011, were extremely turbulent, as summer passed and school began, forcing me into a new, strange, and unwelcome place with new people.
The days spent at that school, while not many, were the longest I had ever experienced. And the situation at home, was only worsening. Soon, my mother turned to alcohol, and eventually drugs to get by, and was caught of course, and sent to jail after being pulled over with an open container and a baggie of meth. She was released and placed on probation, but only lasted a while before being caught again, and this time it was for good.
After receiving the news, I had to uproot again, and head back to Broken Arrow with my Dad, to try and start again, still only 11 years old. While my Mom spent her time in jail, my grandmother was left alone, but not for long, as my mother was released after 3 months and placed in drug court. She is now clean, after 5 years. As for me, I am still here in Broken Arrow, thankful that those days are gone, and always hopeful that each day here will be better than the one before it. With each day that goes by, these memories seem to grow stronger stronger, having an increased effect with time. But living in the past is not an option these days, wasting time on things that are done will get you nowhere, and the time to move on and forget is now, before any more time is
wasted.