It was my seventh grade year when it began and led to my eighth grade year and half of my freshman year. My grandma had been living with my family for almost three years now. She was getting old. She had Alzheimer’s and dementia, and she didn’t know who she was or her family half the time. Because of her age, she had been falling and had many bruises since she bruised easily.

In the morning around about 5 o’clock right after my dad left for work, my grandma left the house and ran to the neighbor’s. She told them that my parents had been beating her, which wasn’t true at all.

Thus, started the nightmare; I was under so much stress I lost so much weight to where it was visible. I refused to eat anything; nothing sounded good to eat; I excluded myself from everybody, and I was depressed because I didn’t know what was going to happen or why this was happening.

The day before court, we went to my sister Taylor’s softball scrimmage in Lima Bath. After we went home, my mom was getting ready to go to bed. I was in my room watching T.V. while my mom was in the living room lying down on the chair which was right outside of my room at the time. I was thinking about court the next day and how this could be the last time I would get to hug her, so I walked and sat on the arm of the rocking chair. I just hugged her, and I didn’t let go for the longest time. We both cried. I told her I didn’t want her to go, she said, “I know. I don’t want to go either, but you have to be strong. We’ll get through this.”

Finally, the day had come: court day. I was taken out of school. Because I had to testify, it was hard because the judge would just try and change my words. The judge was very mean while I was on the stand. He asked me where her bruises came from, and he expected me to know where all of her bruises came from. My mom ended up taking a plea deal of six months because if she wanted to continue with the court and have the jurors decide she could have been sentenced up to five years in jail. That would have meant her kids would have been all grown up before she was out, and she did not want that. After the trial, they took my mom away in handcuffs. I wasn’t allowed to touch her. She was crying while my brother Corbitt, Taylor, and I sat on a bench and cried till she walked out of the courthouse. It was hard for me to watch her walk out of the court house, knowing that my mom was going to prison and she wouldn’t be there for me. The first day of her imprisonment, I cried all day. I didn’t go to school, didn’t sleep that night, went to school the next day, and missed the school incentive trip because I was so overwhelmed. I should have just stayed home.

A week later, my dad went to court to find out if he was going to be going to prison. He wouldn’t be. It would have been harder if both of them would‘ve been gone. A few months passed, and my mom had to miss my first homecoming dance, my freshman year. I talked to my mom on the phone. She called sometimes. We wrote back and forth.

Over the summer we went to visit her in the Pre-Release Center. This was the first time I saw her in four months. She looked so good. She had lost a bunch of weight. I was just so excited to finally see her and hug her, but it had to come to an end. Then another four months passed, and it was time for her to get out. She was originally only supposed to be in there for six months, but the judge the court date was pushed back two extra months.

We found out my mom had a court day for my mom’s release in two weeks. Then about two days later, we found out it was actually the next day. We went to the courthouse, and everybody was there: my whole family, my grandma who accused my parents and the people that were taking care of her now, my cousin Lisa and my Aunt Tiny and Uncle James. Before my mom was released, people spoke out against and in favor of her release. Inside the courtroom people spoke, and I remember this guy who spoke--they called him Blue--he acted like he knew my grandpa, who died in 2000. Blue said my grandpa would be ashamed of my dad, which I didn’t understand because my dad or mom didn’t do anything wrong. His comments made my dad cry. My grandma couldn’t even speak, but everybody said she was okay. She wasn’t even living on her own.

The day my mom was released, I had school, and my dad picked her up and brought her home. I was so excited to have her home once again.