The Last Day

When I was little, I used to think the only light that could be brought upon me was to be from the Sun. So every morning until I turned 7 I would sit in front of my window and watch the Sunrise and Sunset. I would think to myself that all of the light that I would ever see is gone. That is what I went to bed thinking every night.

 My mom would always think I was crazy for thinking those things, and nobody ever really took me seriously when I told them that one of these nights will be your last. 

 I would go around saying that like it meant nothing, that people weren't scared of dying, and that I was proud to know so much for just being 5 or 6. I always questioned why people don't believe younger kids. They are paying so much attention to every little thing you do that you would think they would catch on to the little things once in a while.

 When I would sit at the window, my mom would tell me I needed to get all of those "negative thoughts" out of my head and that I shouldn't be worried about those things. 

 But deep down, I know that it was a good thing that I was watching out for the people around me because if not, I might not have a family at all.

 When I turned 15, my mom and dad got a divorce and my dad moved from my home in Maine, all the way to Alabama. When he left, my mom took it badly, she started to drink and not go to work as often. I began being the main source of income for our family, with my sandwich-making job (Which didn't make lots of money but was making more than what my mom was making).

 I started to act like the adult in the household until one night I went out with my boyfriend Ricky and two of my other friends. We went out partying and I didn't end up getting home until about 2 a.m. When I arrived home, I found something that I prayed I would never have to see, but I still saw it.

 My mom was lying on the floor of our 2 bedroom apartment's kitchen holding onto a letter that looked like it had been handwritten. Her mouth foaming, I called 9-1-1 as I kneeled beside her and told her that everything would be okay, even though I knew it would not be. 

 As I looked around the kitchen, I saw that my mom had been doing drugs and the first thought popped into my mind was that it was all my fault. And that if I hadn't left her alone and went out to the party that the ambulance wouldn't be driving into my driveway right now. 

 As I jumped into the ambulance with my mom on a bed next to me, I couldn't help but wonder if she would be ok. All the rest of the ride was a blur, as I was sure that I blacked out on the way to the hospital. 

 As we arrived, I saw my grandparents sitting in the waiting room, my Nana clutching a tissue, and my Papa pacing around the room. As they saw me, they ran over and hugged me. I couldn't help but bury my head into their chests and cry. I didn't even know what I was feeling. I felt like this was all just a dream that would go away soon enough. But it didn't.

 As the night dragged on as I sat in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs hoping to see Dr. Cartisan walk through the door and tell me everything would be okay, I started getting hallucinations. I saw my mom walking out of the hospital like nothing had happened and saw her completely ignore me. 

 When I finally realized that everything was just a dream, I started wondering if this whole thing was just a dream. Of course, I knew that I would've had to be awake by then, so I didn't think much of ut. I just focused on my mom and if she would be okay. 

 As I sat there waiting, I started looking things up on the web that I shouldn't have been thinking about. Like planing her funeral, because I knew that they would've come out sooner if they knew she would be okay, but they didn't.

 As I grew older, I continued thinking about what my life would be like if I hadn't gone to that party and if my mom were still alive. The night that I left for my party, I had kissed my mom goodbye as always but noticed something was a little off. Of course, being a teenager, all I wanted to do was go party with my friends.

 I moved in with my grandparents and they took good care of me and I later went on to have my kids. I have never had a day go by where I didn't think about what would've been different if I didn't leave that night.

 After my mom passed away, I started watching the sunrise and sunset every day from that point on. I started embracing what I had while I had it ad making the best of my time here on Earth. Now, there's no way to tell exactly what would've been different if my mom were still here, but I can't take my mind off of it.

I wish that I would've spent more time with my mom than looking at the Sun and thinking up some crazy ideas that I know were never true. I get so mad at myself every day and people tell me that its not my fault when I do know deep down that it is my fault.

When my mom died, I thought that things would be better, she never was the best mom, was always late, never went to work, and was always sleeping. But I was stupid for thinking that and I wish I could go back and change everything that had happened that night. But I knew I couldn't, so I just had to live with the guilt that brought me down and that's how I spend the rest of my life.