Ashton Chowning English 101 Pre-writing/Post-writing Essay December 9, 2016
The Day She was Gone
My cousin ran into my house at 9:34 P.M., why I remember this time out of all the memories of that day I will never know. “We do not have long,” my cousin told my mother and me. My mother already had her shoes on due to the fact that she knew the drill, we all did. As they ran out of the house, I tried not to think in regards to it, or her, or anything. I waited hours for them to come home, trying not to think, and trying not to cry. Being only a mere 13 years old, I was confused, but I still understood what was happening. I do not think anyone thinks about a tragedy until they are actually struck with shocking news. As my mother walked back into our home, I already knew the traumatic words she was about to speak, “She is gone.” On May 21, 2012, my aunt passed away from pancreatic cancer, leaving me traumatised but making me stronger. Losing my aunt taught me how to boost my own self esteem, to never take for granted the time I have with people, and to not dwell over the little things, like a conversation.
My Aunt Kris was always teaching me new knowledge and boosting my self esteem. Kris, my mom’s sister, was possibly the most virtuous person I have ever met. She was always teaching me new strategies in the neighborhood of paints, or how to hold my paintbrush, or that girls with green eyes are the best artist in the world. I am not fully sure that the information she told me were facts or not, but anything she told me I would have believed. She would always tell me, “Do not let the rough patches in life force your smile into a frown,” but I let the rough patches purloin my smile when she was no longer here to tell me otherwise.
In spite the fact that she was always helping me and others, I found my days with her growing short due to the cancer. In the fall of 2011, my aunt was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer is one of the hardest cancers to find in the body, and once it is found, it is usually too late to help the patient, but she still tried chemotherapy for multiple months. Everyone, even Kris, told me the chemo was helping her and I thought it truly was until I started to notice her deterioration. In the due course of cancer, she lost all of her abilities to do day-to-day capabilities. In early April of 2012, my family decided to take her out of the hospital and put her on hospice so she could spend her last days in her home. Every day for almost two months I went to her house after school to visit her and tell her how my day went. Most times she would just want to watch me draw or paint, due to the fact that talking was no longer a task she could do she did not feel connected to my stories. May 21, 2012, was the last day I ever painted for her. I do not remember her and I’s last conversation, and it pains me that I do not. I hope that the conversation was happy and full of life, making her last moments joyful. My mother says a person usually does not remember the last words they say to someone due to the fact that they never know that it is your last time speaking to them. I used to dwell over what I said to her on that day. Wondering if she knew how much she actually meant to me, how much I love her. My mom says that she knows and she always will, but I am still not all that certain.
My aunt passed away from pancreatic cancer on May 21, 2012, leaving me traumatised but making me stronger. I was a mere 13 when my aunt passed away, being four years older I understand that her death actually helped me. In spite the fact that the pain of my aunt’s death still lingers, I know that I must continue to be passionate and become a better artist. From losing my aunt, I learned how to boost my self esteem, to never take for granted the time I have with people, and to not dwell over the little things, like a conversation.