Essay 1: Final Draft

The Last Time I Cried

Crying has been used to express many emotions such as happiness, sadness, or anywhere in between since the world began. This wet expression is proven to relieve stress, pain, or to better show someone how one feels. In our society, tears are accepted my women rather than men. So given this fact, one would believe that I, being a young woman have had many occasions where I have cried. However, the last time I cried was in January of 2001.

I had only been eleven years old for about a month and attended Totem Middle School. It was a Friday night, and for some reason, I had a horrible stomach ache. So my mother let me sleep with her that night. I sometimes wish that I wasn’t in the room to overhear the worst phone call that Saturday morning. I acted as though I was still sleeping while my mom cried, saying, “why did you take him from us God?!?” when I couldn’t hold my pee any longer and decided to “wake up,” my mom broke the horrific news to me. In response, I just said “hmm” and went to the bathroom as though she had told me that the sky was blue. My denial stayed there until the day of the funeral.

It was the 21st of January. I remember my mom telling me to wear black because neither she nor I knew what to put on for that day. I wanted to wear something colorful and flashy, which would be the wrong attire for this ad occasion. But I was still not in tune with reality at the time, so everything seemed normal. When we arrived at the funeral with my family, I could see his head as I glanced at the casket while people went to view him, but yet thought nothing of it. I asked my mother if I could go see him, but received a rejection because I would have nightmares, according to my mother. I kept wondering why everyone that spoke at the funeral was speaking of him as though he wasn’t alive and why my aunt kept crying. It wasn’t until after the funeral that I allowed reality to sink into my soul. My cousin gave me a hug, and as she put her arms around me, it began to hit me. He was gone. Immediately tears came rushing down my face and I balled in my cousins arms.

His name was Alfred Douglas Rogers. He had a wife named Regina and two children, Brittany and Brandon. He was my God-fathers brother, so he knew me since birth. He was the nicest person I had ever met in my eleven years on this earth, and in my opinion, the closest to God. In other words, he was almost like Gods son. He attended the same church as my family and I did, so almost every Sunday after church, I would go over to his house. Every time he hugged me, it felt like a big angel bear protecting me from all the “bad” things in life. Because I didn’t have a father in my life, he was like the father I never had, and now like the father I will never have.

This man that graced my life with his presence with every encounter was the best thing that walked into my life. But just like that, he became the worst thing with one phone call on that Saturday morning. His wonderful aspects made me want him here on earth forever, but instead left me with a hole in my heart. This event quickly became the worst possible thing to ever happen to me now, and in the future. Therefore, I have no reason to express what we call crying about anything in life anymore.