The Girl Who Lost Her Mother

by Hope Osiemi 12 months ago in grief

My Story

The Girl Who Lost Her Mother

"Mommy, why did you leave me?" was something I said to myself each and every day. I never thought that something so horrible could ever happen to me; but yet it did. The last time something bad happened to me was Hurricane Katrina. I was 5 at the time, but I never really thought about it. I never thought about how we had to leave our home in New Orleans and move to Texas. I never thought about how my father had lost his job, and my mother had to find another college to attend. Why? Because I was naïve. It wasn't until she left me that I woke up. That's when I knew that everything wasn't perfect in this world. That's when I knew, that my life wouldn't be all smiles.

I was only 11 when she left. Around that time I was bright girl with bright dreams. I never paid any attention to my mother, who was casually getting sicker by the minute. I went with her to the doctor's office, but I was so clueless. It wasn't until she dropped dead in front of me; that was when I knew. It wasn't until I held her in my arms while I begged God to bring her back to us. When I did CPR in hopes that she would wake up, but she never did. When I heard my father sobbing when the nurse said she was gone. It wasn't until then that I realized reality.

My two brothers, two little boys. One was 6 and one was only 3 years old; still in diapers. The 3 year old would run to the front door each and every day; and put his hands on the glass door, waiting. The 6 year old used his pain and succeeded in his studies. What did I do? My grades dropped. Each and every day I would contemplate killing myself. I would even overdose on my vitamins, just so I could go. Why wasn't I stronger back then? Why did I let myself get so depressed? A once carefree outgoing girl became a socially awkward mess.

My father, my poor father. I always wondered how he felt when his wife was dead right in front of him; all I heard were the screams. I never blamed him for the way he treated me after she died. Even after he beat me, I would blame myself. I knew he just could deal with his wife being gone; he wanted to die too.

One thing I can be thankful for is that I didn't take my own life. If I did, I wouldn't have seen how my life turned out. Losing my mother at such a young age had an impact on my life; an impact that me being 18 now is thankful for. If I didn't lose her, I'd still be that selfish little girl that didn't care about people's issues. I went from begging God to bring her back, to thanking him for letting her go. And yes, my grades went back to A's; my father is much happier; and I'm able to smile again.

How does it work?
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