8 Years of My Life

        Monday, December 14, 1998. The sound still rings in my ear to this day. I don’ really know why it happened but it did. So here's how it went as I remember it. I was young so even though it’s still very clear, some parts are still a bit fuzzy. I was 8 years old, about half of my life ago. I was in a school program called the “Cowgirls”. We performed line dances for charities and shows. My mom had just brought me back home from doing a performance at the Salvation Army homeless shelter for the children there. They had a Santa and gifts for the kids who would otherwise get nothing for Christmas. The look on their faces when they opened them was so touching. It just made you feel good on the inside. After the dances went well and we all had seen Santa and had holiday snacks, it was time to go home. That night on our way back I felt nice. I didn't really know the real reason why but I did. After I got home I changed out of my uniform into normal clothes and went and sat in the living room with my dad to watch t.v. I think we were watching a basketball game. My two brothers were there. Chris, the youngest son, was in his room. Michael, the middle son, was in his room with his best friend, Josh, watching t.v. My mom was in the kitchen washing the dishes. My sister, Rhonda, was ay work along with her boyfriend, Jason. I think my oldest brother, Gary, and his wife, Brandie, were at their home. My brother Michael was always the one to run around with his friends in the projects getting into trouble and stuff. That night hit the height of it all. I’ll be honest; I’m not ashamed of my life. So I’ll tell it as it is, and as it was. My dad was an alcoholic. Sometimes he could even be abusive. He used to hit my brothers when they made even the simplest of mistakes. I was always daddy’s little girl; his princess. He spoiled me. But there at the end he began getting violent with me too. As that night went on, he got more and more drunk. Michael came out of his room for a reason unknown to me. He was standing in the living room doorway talking to my dad. Then I guess one of them said a foul word to the other and Michael started back to his room. My dad yelled something to him. I don’t know what it was but my mom had heard it all the way in the kitchen. Michael went back to watching t.v. in his room where Josh was. My mom came into the living room where my dad and I were and starting yelling at him, asking him what he had said to Michael. This made my dad angry and so they started arguing badly. The argument had moved into the hallway and then it turned into a fist fight. By then everyone was out in the hallway trying to break it up, including me.  I got in between them and tried pushing them apart. Me, being only 8 at the time, didn’t really help much. I remember everyone yelling, then Chris pulled me to the side. I looked up at my two parents fighting, and that’s when I saw it. I saw the thing that frightens me most about that night. The black gun held by Josh, came between my brother and my mom and I heard the loudest noise I’ve ever heard in my whole life. Then everyone moved into the living room doorway and started screaming and crying.  I pushed my way through the small group and there I saw him. Lying on the floor was my father, covered in blood, gasping for air. I saw him went he went down and everything but I didn’t realize what had really happened until then. He was shot right between his heart and his left shoulder. Michael was standing beside me and next to him was Chris, then my mom. Me and my brothers all kept screaming, “Daddy, get up!” Josh was in the bedroom doing who knows what. Then I turn and see Josh come out of the bedroom carrying the gun and he grabbed Michael and started pulling him out the front door to a getaway car driven by some guy named Eric. They were gone long before the police and the ambulance ever got there. I remember my mom running to the neighbor’s house and Rhonda and Jason, her boyfriend, came home from work and were confused and flipped out about what was happening. I’m sorry but I can’t remember much about what happened after that before we got to the hospital. The next I can recall, we are all in the E.R. waiting room. It was me, my mom, Gary, Brandie, Rhonda, Jason, Chris, two nurses and a doctor. It seemed we waited forever before another doctor came in and said he needed someone to come and identify the body of a shooting victim to see if it was our dad or not who had died.  My sister went. It didn’t take long before she came back crying her eyes out. She nodded her head and then everyone was all into pieces. Gary was sitting beside me and he hugged me and was squeezing me so tight that I could hardly breathe. Tears and tissues were everywhere. After that and we all had left the hospital, I remember riding in the back of my sister’s car tears streaming down my face but I wasn’t crying hard, just a lot of tears. I was looking up at the stars, wondering why this had happened. Rhonda saw me and told me to look up and find the brightest star. She told me that whenever I do, that star represents my dad watching over me. I never forget that. It may sound a little childish but every now and then if I’m out at night, I find myself thinking about what she had said. At the funeral there were so many people. A lot of them I had never even seen before. Near the end of it my mom fainted. She recovered from it and we all went home and it was quiet for awhile. At the burial, well, it was like any other burial so there’s no need to describe it. My dad had been in the Army so they were going to have a traditional salute and gunfire to pay respect but my mom requested not to have the gunfire part because that’s how he had died. They folded up the flag that was on his coffin and handed it to my mom. After that, Christmas Day wasn’t as lively as it used to be; there was someone missing. From then on, everything went downhill. We were one check away from owning our house, but my grandfather’s girlfriend was the realtor for it. They kept blaming Michael for what happened and they turned against us. They wouldn’t accept the check we tried giving them to pay the house off. My mom didn’t know at the time that they weren’t allowed to do that. After it happened, Michael came home the next morning wondering what was going on. He didn’t know. He had blacked out.  He didn’t know our dad was gone. He and Josh went to jail. Michael has mental and emotional problems so they out him in Lakeshore Mental Institution. He’s been in and out of jail and on and off probation ever since. Right now he’s in prison for violating his probation again but his P.O. set him up. It was time for a home visit from her. She knew he had a suspended license and wasn’t supposed to be driving. She called and told him to meet her at a nearby store. When he got there the police were there waiting to arrest him. He’s been in prison for about 4 years. He gets out in June of 2008; next year. Since was gone, my mom was a single parent struggling to make ends meet. Over time we’ve had so many problems. We’ve lived in about 15 or 16 different places in the past 8 years. We’ve gone threw a few deaths, many fights, threats, a few babies being born into the family, and two marriages. We still have it rough but that’s not what matters. A whole lot of stuff has happened since then but it’s just too much to write and describe. I turned out having the same emotional problems that Michael has, except for the Bipolar. And I always wonder if developing them had anything to do with that night. Right now everything is the way it has been for awhile. It’s not the best but it’ll get better. I’m not complaining. All I have to do is think about the good, hold my head up, and remember that I have many friends and family that love me as much as I love them. This story was long but I felt it was worth it. So far it has taken about 4 hours and I’ve been working on it nonstop. I’m going to go now. Maybe now if you’ve read this, you might understand me a bit more. Goodbye.

                                                                 Michelle A.

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