At the age of 9, one little girl’s world was rattled, shattered, and turned upside-down. But, let’s start back at the beginning. Her mother, Dawn, was the most beautiful and inspiring woman that the little girl had known at that age. Her skin was covered in beautifully placed freckles, and she had eyes of sapphire stones that quickly turned to stars when she laughed. Maybe she wasn’t conventionally beautiful, but her looks were effortless. It was thrown together and messy, yet perfect. She was the hardest worker I knew, and her daughter couldn’t understand why she wasn’t with her everyday like her classmates were with their mothers.

Her daughter, an awkward child with a heavy interest books and the arts considered her mother to be her best friend. She wanted to make her mother proud, so she challenged herself. She read books for 12th graders without understanding the underlying meaning and theme, but she could piece it together well enough to make her mother’s eyes light up when she would explain the newest plot-twist or added character. Dawn was proud of her, and her daughter continued to push herself to make her proud. They truly were inseparable; the daughter would be with her 24/7 if time and money allowed, but of course, they never do.

Limited to seeing her mother Tuesdays-Thursdays, her daughter cherished every moment spent together. She formed unforgettable memories of her highlighted hair and the constellations covering her skin, the screw marks on her left leg from a car accident reparation and the gap between her teeth. She memorized the stretch marks on her hips and the way she brushed her teeth in the morning. Little did she know, she would have limited time before the things she saw weekly became mere memories.

On March 2, 2010, her mother wasn’t there to pick her up from school. A call was made to the apartment and she was unheard from. The shrieks of her grandmother asking if her daughter was okay would forever be imprinted in her mind. On March 2, 2010, her mother had passed away. A week out of school was all that was provided for her to heal. The entire grade made her a card wishing her well, and she tried to be okay again. She had lost her best friend, but she tried to be strong. Her main priority now was making her that her mother would stay proud of her and all her decisions.

Her priority became her biggest fear. The once nerdy 9-year-old became a numb 10-year-old, pushing thoughts away, not letting herself get upset. Then she became a professional bargainer as a 13-year-old, asking God to bring her back if I prayed every day and at every chance I got. An angry 14-year-old, wondering why this happened to me, questioning fate. They say you’ll get through, but stuck in hell doesn’t seem like somewhere you can escape from. As a 15-year-old, she began to accept her loss and associated her mother with the good things in her life. Now the night sky shows her mother’s beautiful freckles and lightning shows the stretchmarks covering her hips. Her daughter still sees her in everything, but it no longer makes her cry, just smile.
At the age of 9 years old, my world was rattled, shattered, and turned upside-down. I never imagined that my life could alter so much from one event. She is gone, but she surely will never be forgotten.