How I Felt When I Lost My Mother

How I Felt When I Lost My Mother

Losing a loved one is like hell in a hand-basket.
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Walking into the office on that January morning after my first period class, I thought that I was in trouble. I was told that I was needed in the office. I didn’t think about the accident that I had heard a few teachers gossiping about that morning before school. As I was heading for the principal’s office, I was told to go to the superintendent’s office. I started to wonder what I did. After rounding the corner and seeing the police, I thought “Oh sh*t, I don’t even know what I did. What did I do that is this bad?” Then I saw one of my sisters holding my mom’s silk pajamas with tear-stained cheeks, and my other sister was suddenly behind me. The words spilled from her mouth before I could even think about what might have happened.

“Mom’s gone!” The world stopped spinning. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even cry; but I forced myself because I knew that the tears would come later. I figured that if I cried enough, I would not have any left for the rest of the night. Wrong: I had the worst headache, and tears were still forcing their way into my eyes.

A weird thing that I imagine when someone passes away, is that they are in a white room, and they physically take a step backwards. Then it’s done. I never imagined my mom doing that (not even my grandma, who passed away years ago). It kind of sucked, but it made me realize that maybe they didn’t want me to see them like that. Maybe they wanted me to remember them walking forward, and moving toward the future, not away.

As we left the school and headed to the apartment, we went to our dad’s because he lived across the hall. We didn’t want to be somewhere we knew our mom wasn’t going to be. I know what you are thinking. Yes, I have a weird family. Who divorces, then lives right next to each other? Maybe it is because they wanted my sisters and I to stay close, but I secretly think they were trying to plot a way to take our souls (only kidding).

When people say they are sorry, or they understand, I just want to say that they've only read half of my book, but they can’t read the rest until they have gone through what I have. I do not wish for anyone to lose a parent, but when they do, they will know just how much it sucks not to be able to tell them about how your day went (or to have a shoulder to cry on). My mother was the person I always went to when I had learned about the death of someone I had known. Heck, she was the one I wanted to run to when she died. If anyone wants to talk about the loss of a parent, I’m here. I do know how it feels. I know that is sucks, and that you won’t want to talk about it (that’s how I am), but I’m here. I won’t even talk, unless you want me to.

Losing someone sucks, and hearing the same thing over and over again doesn’t help to calm you down and “forget.” Although, I wont forget my mother (and don’t want to), I know that I do not want to think about it 24/7, 365 days a year.

In the movie "St. Vincent," Bill Murray’s character talks about the death of his wife. Oliver (the young boy) tells Vincent that he is sorry for the loss. Vincent then replies with multiple examples of what he would like to hear because he doesn’t want to be told that they are sorry. One of the examples that stuck with me was that he wanted to be asked about what she was like. I just wish people would respond like that. Even though it’ll make me cry, I would be so happy to talk about how beautiful and loving she was. She always put everyone else first (even when she shouldn’t have). She was always there for everyone, even when she needed the shoulder to cry on.

To get another perspective on losing a parent, if you haven’t seen the Bindi Irwin memorial dance to her dad on "Dancing with the Stars," you should watch it. Not only is it beautiful, but it really describes how I feel. In the video, she mentions that she still expects her father to “come home.” I have that same feeling with my mother. I always expect her to just be sitting in the apartment that we used to live in, and that’s where I will be going back to when I go home from University. Although it hasn’t even been a year yet, just like Bindi, I feel like it will take a long time to understand that she is actually gone, but I know that she is, and she’s not going to come back. Although that is the truth, I know that she is somehow with me. Her body is gone, but the memories live on.

This doesn’t even begin to cover everything I am feeling. I think an infinite number of pages in a book wouldn't even begin to tell you just how I feel. I just wanted to share how it felt to me, and to speak the things on other people’s minds. Just remember, even though it doesn’t get better, it still does at the same time. Recently my mother’s headstone was put up, and it is beautiful. It gave me the sense of peace that she is now resting better. Now people don’t have to look at that plastic one and say “well, they’re new.” They will have to search for the dates instead.

On a side note, wear your seat belt at all times. If it feels uncomfortable, just deal with it. It has a better chance of saving your life than not wearing one at all. My mother lost control and was ejected from the vehicle. Be safe, and wear a seatbelt.

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As A Muslim American, My Trip To Jerusalem Revealed That Open-Mindedness Bridges Communities

A life changing trip that opened my eyes up to the optimal dynamics in a community.

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On Dec. 21, my parents and I flew to Amman, a city in the beautiful country of Jordan, where we took a cab to the main part of Jerusalem. We were told by multiple family friends that it is not the safest to directly fly into Jerusalem because of the religious issues and riots going on. As we entered Jerusalem, I put my hijab on. A hijab is a head covering worn to cover a women's beauty in Islam. As I put my hijab on to pay respect to Mosque Aqsa, I noticed a change in perspective from everyone around me because suddenly, there were eyes from everywhere on me — Muslim and Jewish.

After we paid respect to Mosque Aqsa, we went to the hotel to sleep because we were exhausted from our 14 hour flight. The next morning, we woke up bright and early to begin our day by praying at Mosque Aqsa. I wore traditional American clothes, jeans and a top, because it was often worn in Jerusalem, though I kept a hijab on for prayer.

After praying, I was astonished by the gathering of all the Muslim people in the mosque area. This made me want to see the Wailing Wall and the place of the first church to view how others gather for their god. I knew the Wailing Wall was sacred because it was a prayer and pilgrimage place for Jewish people, while for Christians, Jesus was born inside the first church.

As we exited the mosque community, we found a kind man at the kiosk who gave us pomegranate and mangoes. My dad decided to ask this gentleman directions to the Wailing Wall. The man began screaming at me and my dad. He told us we are not allowed to even want to view the wall of the Jewish people. I responded and explained that we just want another perspective on other religions. The man yelled even louder. He told us that the Jewish people would convert us and that we should not leave the Mosque surroundings. With this, he furiously sat back down and did not give us any directions to the wall that was right behind this mosque. My dad and I were quite confused on what had just happened and the way our question for simple directions were handled.

We decided to walk along the sidewalk until we found someone to help us out. It was a 61-year-old man who seemed to be a Jewish person with his religious hat. He happily helped us out and gave us exact directions for the Wailing Wall, though he did say he was excited new people wanted to convert to his religion.

We followed his directions and successfully reached the Wailing Wall. There were gates at the Wailing Wall that had security checks that allowed people to enter as there were at the mosque. Although, the experience entering the wall and mosque was not the same. As a muslim woman wearing a hijab, I was able to walk through the mosque without anyone questioning me, I was easily able to walk in without questions asked.

At the wall, a security guard first made my family go through metal detectors, checked our passports and asked an immense amount of questions about why we wanted to go see the Wailing Wall if we were Muslim. Finally, after various obstacles and issues, we made it into the Wailing Wall.

As I experienced such obstacles, I thought about how different the community in Jerusalem was from the United States. It doesn't matter what group, each religion in Jerusalem was highly conservative. This is quite different from the United States.

The culture in the United States is significantly diverse, which allows the people here to be open minded. As an everyday routine, Americans interact with people of various religions and cultures that they don't question or change their perspective toward a certain race. Yes, there are always racist citizens who are not comfortable with other religions, but a majority of the United States depicts unity because of how culturally different every person is.

This is not how Jerusalem is seen. Religions are significantly segregated with one another through security check, restaurants, hotels and even streets. Every religion has their streets in Jerusalem and going to the one you are not a part of can result in awkward stares along with rude treatment.

As I had previously booked a hotel before arriving to Jerusalem, we were not aware that the street we booked was on the street of the Jewish people. This wasn't a major issue, but glares and different treatment were conveyed. As my parents and I would eat breakfast in the lounge, we would often get glares for the hijab or clothing we were wearing because it was different from everyone else around us. This was quite disturbing because every day we would go inside the hotel or leave and get glares that clearly depicted that we weren't wanted in this hotel. The hotel workers were indefinitely kind and caring at all times, though the people living there were not.

The experience I had was definitely an eye-opening lesson. It depicted the perspective of others in America versus Jerusalem. The people in Jerusalem are not open-minded, which detaches the various religious groups in the nation. It prevents various religions to connect or be able to create united communities to be able to act as one.

As for the United States, there are different religions and cultures blended together with majority of the people who are open-minded. This allows the union of communities, while also allowing people to connect without the similarity of religion. I'm glad that I was able to have a once in a lifetime experience with my family. Although the segregation in the country was a little uncomfortable, I am glad that I was able to understand how lucky I am to live in an open, happy and united country and that I am also able to learn about the significance of open-mindedness in uniting people and communities.

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