My Mom Committed Suicide Essay -- Personal Narrative Writing

My Mom Committed Suicide For the longest time it never occurred to me that I actually did have a mother. The facts I had just weren't enough, I needed more evidence. t is the same thing every year. I find myself guilted into another mother-daughter banquet by my grandmother. As soon as I enter the room she senses my presence and immediately starts parading me around. She drags me from table to table trying to show me off as if I am some door prize she has just won. The dialogue is more or less the same. "Y'all, I would like you meet my granddaughter Julie." Under my breath I correct her, "My name isn't Julie," while still keeping that fake smile on my face that I mastered years ago. She politely restates her introduction: "This is my granddaughter Jobi, Julie's daughter, my middle child. Julie passed away a few years ago." It is at this moment that all noise drowns out and the only words I hear are those spoken through body language and facial expressions: "Oh you poor thing, how tragic." It is also at this moment I feel like running towards the glow of the nearest EXIT sign to escape all the looks of sympathy that make me feel as though my mother died right before I arrived rather than fourteen years ago. I cannot even pretend to know the bond and relationship that these women are celebrating and feel I need to excuse myself for intruding on their special moment. I do appreciate the concern, but the apologies just aren't necessary. I was so young when she passed away that I really don't remember her. This made it hard to relate to my Dad and my brother who were in fact deeply affected by this awful event, and when they talk about her it makes me feel extremely odd. They talk about their memories and the way she was and I ha... ...ords how odd it was to watch me interact with my own mother, a person I don't even know. It is a fact that that moment actually took place, but it is still so unreal to me because I just can't remember. I can't remember anything. And I resent myself for that. They say everyone has a destiny and that your life is planned before it even starts, but I would like to know what it was about me that made me destined for this. I do find peace in the belief that everything happens for a reason and God won't give you more than you can handle at one time. I also take comfort in the belief of a "Heaven" where one day I may get answers to all of my questions and then some. Until that day I will just have to continue day dreaming and dealing with my emotions because no matter how angry I get or how loud I scream, I know that there is no one to answer me. At least not now, anyway.