Dallas-Personal Narrative

He then got pneumonia and then the doctors thought he was all better so they sent him home. And then a couple days later he got in really bad shape again and then when they brought him back to the ER, the doctors said there was nothing else they could do, so they put him in hospice. He was so strong in hospice, but you could just tell everyday that he was getting worse and worse. Then it was a Friday night, and the doctor said that he doesn’t think that he will be around for much longer, said he might not make it through the night.

“I’m so sorry. He died at the scene of the wreck. The Truck landed on him and killed him instantly.” I laid there in silence and began crying. He then took my hand and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss.

I would do anything, in order to survive. There would be no limit to what I would do to survive. I have always been known as the survivor. Lets just say I was all alone, no one, no one else in Laredo. There are no power lines that are working.

That day is still very vivid in my head, I remember we were in motorcade through Dealey Plaza in downtown Dallas, Texas and then all of the sudden I heard a loud bang and then next thing I know he is dead. I still have to go to therapy for it. The therapist think that he is helping but he isn’t. I don’t think anybody could help me.

I rolled over and checked the caller ID in an attempt to figure out who might be calling me so late at night. Looking at my phone, I realized it was my best friend, Kelley. She had recently been going through a lot of tough things in her personal and family life, so it was no surprise that she called me for support. I answered and immediately heard her muffled, choking sobs. "What 's going on Kelley?

The community I grew up in central Texas celebrated my heritage, honored differences in culture, and fostered personal growth and self-discovery. My parents, with the strong work ethic they developed on their family’s farms in Ghana, encouraged my brother and me to work hard and find ways to use our skills to be of service to others, which wasn’t hard to do growing up in Austin with its many avenues to become involved and take care of the community, whether it was helping to direct families through the Trail of Lights at Zilker Park during the winter or raise money for educational programs for underprivileged kids in the area through working the concession stands at the University of Texas at Austin. It was this collaborative mindset that Austin

was born in a small town in Texas known as Laredo. It was a poor city and was basically the border town to Mexico, it was always a mess, always hot, and only snowed once in 2002. Even though the city I was born in was harsh place, I had a great family that raised me well and taught me how to be respectful to my elders. Home was always different, every 2 to 3 years we always moved around so I really didn’t have many friends, until I moved to San Antonio is where I found a great home in 2007, the neighborhood was filled with nice people and each house actually had a lawn and not just broken cars or dried dirt in the front porches. The community was fantastic as well, the people and atmosphere we lived in when we moved to San Antonio was so much better than Laredo because people were actually nice to you and everyone didn’t look like they were going to cause trouble.

According to Google, the lethal dosage for acetaminophen is 10 grams. As I scanned the painkiller aisle in CVS for the least expensive option that would do the job, my eyes rested on a small bottle of extra-strength Tylenol. 24 tablets, the bottle read, 500 milligrams each. I quickly worked that out in my head to be 12 grams.

His hands were freezing. Very carefully, I lift his hand and press my lip against the back of his hand. It was starting to become late and the nurse told me I had to leave, but I didn’t. Nothing could stop me from leaving him. That is when the nurse called my dad to pick me up from the

Patricia Briggs, one of my favorite authors, wrote in one of her novels: “Death isn't a tragedy to God, only to those left behind.” (Briggs, n.d. n.p.) Everyone dies. That is a finality that we as humans are incapable of ignoring. The death of a loved one is a difficult to deal with regardless of how it happens.

I noticed that there was blood on the floor dripping from his mouth. My mom opened his mouth to look inside and found a giant tumor. I was very frightened for Bodee.

Something terrible has just happened. You received a call earlier this afternoon from your mother she informed you that your father has had a terrible accident. He was outside on the tractor doing his daily afternoon chores when something bizarre happened. Your mother found him sitting there unconscious and unresponsive. Fast forward.

Me and dad were driving home, dad sobbing into the steering wheel, struggling to get the words out, and me not having any words to say. I felt broken inside. The words we both wanted to say we 're never going to come out. She’s gone. I knew we both wanted to say it, but deep down we didn’t want to believe it.

I quickly ran to check on my mom. As she was being rolled to the ambulance, she told me my father had stabbed her in the abdominal region. I recall being overwhelmed with so much anger. “How could my father do this?” My father was attempting to kill my mother in her sleep!

I knew the phone call to my parents was going to be one of the most difficult conversations I was faced with in my short adult life. "Mom, I've been in an accident. " "Jason are you alright, are you hurt? " she asked. "I am alright, but the airbags have blown and I am sitting outside of the car."