Personal Narrative-Mama's Funeral

Today my mother died. It seems so real now that I’ve put it on paper. I always knew that my father was in danger when he wrote his outspoken articles, but I never realized how much. Mama, Femi, and I, never thought we would be hurt. It’s hard to believe someone would hate his writing enough to try to kill Papa. When I close my eyes, all I can see is Mama’s red blood soaking through the white sheet. I’ll never forget that heartbreaking sight. What will we do without Mama? I love Papa, and Auntie _____ too, but how will my life go on if I don’t have Mama there to help me? One second I was simply putting my English book in my backpack, and the next I heard a gunshot and Mama’s bright red blood. If only I had been faster or had my books ready,
then Mama would be sitting next to me right now instead of under a white sheet soaked with her blood. If only I could change the past, then Mama and Papa would both be safe, and no one would get hurt; but I can’t. Now Papa is just miserable, and so are Femi and I, and Mama is under that once white sheet. What will we ever do?