The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [94]
While in the elevator, on our way to the sixth floor of the intensive care unit, I thought about how my dad would look. Would his head be distorted? Where in his head did he get shot? What would I say to him? Will he know who I am? As I exited the elevator, I walked slowly to the doors where my dad was placed. Walking through seeing so many sick and diseased people made my stomach hurt. I saw my grandmother and for a split second, I didn’t know whose bed she was at until I saw the person in it. My dad looked horrible. His head was huge and he had about seven or eight patches all over his body. He was hooked up to four or five different machines and had a very thick tubes going down his throat with more going up his nose. Not knowing what to do or what to say, I began to cry. I cried so loud and so hard, the nurse had to come over and asked me to leave. “Dad, wake up. Wake up, Dad! NOW! You can’t go now. Please wake up. We need you. I love you. NO!” I was forced to leave the room because of my behavior, and when I did I was taken to a different room, full of chairs, with two huge glass windows. I saw these windows and started to charge at them. If my dad was going to die, why should I stay alive? My life meant nothing without my dad.
My dad had a long, rugged recovery. Coming in and out of the hospital was very scary and frightening for all of us. To this very day my dad has trouble speaking. He is having seizures and doesn’t remember things too well, but he is in much better condition than he was in before. The bullet is still in his head simply because it couldn’t be removed, which makes me fear that something could go wrong at any time.
I sympathize with people who have lost a parent, or both, for that matter. I understand the fear that overcomes someone when a loved one is lost. He isn’t the only one living with the scar, because I am also. Even though I am living with his scar, I sit back every day and remember that it is only a scar, and count my blessings that my dad is still alive.
Diary 113
Dear Diary,
Nothing hurts more than celebrating your mother’s birthday on Christmas Eve when she’s not around. It’s been eight days since my mother passed away. Today, she would have been forty-eight. The holiday season is supposed to be a time of happiness that you can spend with your family, but this year turned out to be tragic. Normally, since Christmas Eve is my mother’s birthday, she would get twice as many presents. I told her that this year would be different because she wouldn’t have to do anything on her birthday. I was wrong. When she went to the doctor for an appointment, a month earlier, the doctor told her that she had a serious illness and that she had about three months to live, if not less. It turned out to be three weeks.
My mother died from terminal cancer. I knew this was going to happen after I found out she was sick; I just didn’t think it would happen so soon. I was hoping she could spend Christmas with the family one last time. Just like last year, we were going to open up a couple of gifts on Christmas Eve and then the rest on Christmas morning. That was our tradition every year. Now all this has changed. This year, we didn’t get a tree, there might not be a Christmas dinner, and I don’t know what to do with my mother’s gifts. What should I do with them? Should I keep them, get rid of them, or give them to my sister? I don’t know. I know that while other people are opening their gifts, I’ll be packing up my mother’s things in boxes.
With my mother dying so suddenly and unexpectedly, I didn’t get the chance to talk to her. It’s the worse thing that could ever happen because I never had the chance to say good-bye. I have no closure; no “I love you!” Ms. Gruwell once said that “Timing is everything!” and her death couldn’t have come at a worse possible time: during my senior year, a week before Christmas, and a few months before graduation.
My mother died on December 16th. That day, I knew something was going to happen because when I got to school, something inside me