From The Eyes Of A 10 year Old...
Here I am, 10 years old and at my mothers funeral. I tell myself that I won't cry; after all, this is life. Right? As I look around, I see a couple of my teachers, my principal, and many of my mom's so called friends. I am of course surrounded by family. I wonder, what are my big brothers thinking? Are they as scared as me that this could happen to us, or worse yet, my father? After all, isn't this life? This stuff happens and we just have to accept it and move on. I can't seem to concentrate on the service; I am trying so hard not to cry. What do I have to cry about; after all, it was my mother that was shot not me. I only saw her sometimes, I will get used to it, won't I? The service is almost over; I've almost made it without crying. Thanks goodness I think, it is NOT ok to cry once you are this grown up. After all, isn't this just life? Ok, here we go out of the sanctuary into the nice car. I am between my two brothers as we watch my mother being loaded into the car in front of us. I can't help it, I begin to cry, my brothers begin to cry. Just then, one of my teachers leans into the car and simply whispers, " I love you and if you need me on Monday, I'll be there just like always." Just like always...hmmm...usually she is there to make me work harder, behave better, and now it all makes sense. She loves me for me. She came to this part of town for ME. As I sit here and cry, I realize come Monday morning, maybe this does not have to be my only way of life anymore... Maybe, just maybe... It is ok to cry and to be afraid and to learn to read, write, and do math. After all, that's life... Right?
Here I am, 10 years old and at my mothers funeral. I tell myself that I won't cry; after all, this is life. Right? As I look around, I see a couple of my teachers, my principal, and many of my mom's so called friends. I am of course surrounded by family. I wonder, what are my big brothers thinking? Are they as scared as me that this could happen to us, or worse yet, my father? After all, isn't this life? This stuff happens and we just have to accept it and move on. I can't seem to concentrate on the service; I am trying so hard not to cry. What do I have to cry about; after all, it was my mother that was shot not me. I only saw her sometimes, I will get used to it, won't I? The service is almost over; I've almost made it without crying. Thanks goodness I think, it is NOT ok to cry once you are this grown up. After all, isn't this just life? Ok, here we go out of the sanctuary into the nice car. I am between my two brothers as we watch my mother being loaded into the car in front of us. I can't help it, I begin to cry, my brothers begin to cry. Just then, one of my teachers leans into the car and simply whispers, " I love you and if you need me on Monday, I'll be there just like always." Just like always...hmmm...usually she is there to make me work harder, behave better, and now it all makes sense. She loves me for me. She came to this part of town for ME. As I sit here and cry, I realize come Monday morning, maybe this does not have to be my only way of life anymore... Maybe, just maybe... It is ok to cry and to be afraid and to learn to read, write, and do math. After all, that's life... Right?
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