I woke up suddenly to the sound of a siren and much commotion downstairs. I ran into the hallway where I met up with Ellen, my younger sister. We both ran to see what was happening. My older brother was already at the bottom of the stairs. My parents were gone, but my aunt was there. She was trying to explain to us that my mother had to be taken to the hospital. We did not really understand. I was only nine at the time, and my sister was six.
The next day, our father tried to explain to us what had happened. My parents had been viewing pictures that my aunt had brought over to the house. My mother, who had been battling cancer, had passed out in my father’s arms. My father had given her mouth to mouth resuscitation and revived her.
No one was prepared to handle the next six months.
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