The Day My Parents Died

I've started writing a book about my life. This is the first part of my book. It's just a rough draft. More or less a summary, which will have a lot more detail when I'm finished. I just wanted to post it to see what others think so far. Please leave me some comments, questions, and/or suggestions. Thanks! <3

It began like any other day. My mom had left to go to a Christmas Around the World party, so our grandparents were babysitting us. I was playing dolls with my sister and cousin, Shasta. We were giggling and being silly like young, innocent children do. Without warning, that innocence was shattered.

            We heard what we thought were fireworks coming from downstairs. “Daddy must be here,” I cried in excitement. Many times my dad brought fireworks for us to play with when he came over, so we assumed that’s what we had heard. We ran downstairs, excited to see my father after so long. But what we saw next quickly turned that excitement into horror. My dad walked through the kitchen with a gun in his hand. He pointed the gun at my grandpa, who was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. My dad pulled the trigger and shot my grandpa in the shoulder. We all started crying in horror; we didn’t understand why Dad was doing this. My older brother came out of the bathroom behind us. I saw my younger brother, Jake appear next to my sister. They both saw what Dad was doing and started crying also. Grandpa had fallen on his knees and was pleading with Dad, “Please don’t hurt the children.” He kept begging Dad over and over again. Then Dad shot him in the head and Grandpa fell to the floor. He didn’t move or talk after that, and we knew he was dead. We were all in shock; all we could do was stand there crying.

            We knew Dad loved us and didn’t want to hurt us, but we didn’t understand why he would hurt Grandpa. Dad began shuffling us to the back door and told us to go to the neighbor’s house. When we got to the back of the house, we saw Grandma lying on the floor in front of the door. It was a horrific sight; she was covered in blood, here glasses were broken, there was blood in her eyes. A soft moan escaped from her lips. Shasta was very close to Grandma, so she seemed to take it the hardest. She screamed, “Grandma, no!” and kneeled by her side. She kept screaming Grandma’s name, trying to wake her up. Shasta clung tightly to Grandma; she didn’t want to leave her there. I kept saying, “Shasta, we have to go now. Come on, let’s go.” But she wouldn’t. We had to physically pull her away to get her to come with us.

            We headed for the door and saw that the glass in the door window was shattered where my dad had shot at Grandma from outside. Strangely calm, our dad led us to our neighbor’s house. As we stood in his yard, I looked up at Dad with pleading eyes and begged him, “Daddy, please don’t hurt mommy.” My dad looked down at me with sorrow in his eyes and said, “I’m sorry honey, but your mommy is already dead.” Nooooo! This can’t be happening! I wanted to scream, but all I could do was stand there in complete anguish and cry even harder. I was only ten years old; I couldn’t believe this was happening. How could my dad do this?  I prayed that Mom would be okay, that she would make it. She was a very strong and determined person. She wasn’t going to die like this; I just knew she wouldn’t leave me.

            Dad told us to go up to the neighbor’s house, so we knocked on his door. When he opened the door, he saw all of us standing there in tears and asked, “What’s wrong?” Through our tears, we told him what Dad had done. I turned around to find Dad, but he was gone. Our neighbor took us inside and called the police. He gave us milk and cookies and tried to calm us down.

            The neighbor we were with was an elderly man, so when our other neighbors found out what was going on they took us to their place, which was on the other side of our house. Soon there were police everywhere. Everything was such a blur; the only thing I could hear was the piercing sound of sirens and people sobbing all around me. I was afraid to look outside because I thought I would see my dad and I was scared of him. But when I looked out the window, all I saw were cop cars with flashing sirens filling the streets. The neighbors quickly shut the curtains and moved us away from the windows, fearing for our safety.

            After what seemed like an eternity, our other grandparents (my mom’s mom and step-dad) showed up at our neighbor’s house. Grandma was crying as she gathered us all in her arms.  I knew she had bad news when she looked down at us sadly. She tried to keep her voice steady as she explained what had happened, “Your dad shot your mom in the gas station parking lot. She died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.” Her voice cracked, but she kept going. “Your neighbor parked his car behind your dad’s driveways so he couldn’t get away. The police chased after him and shot him in the back of the knee, so he couldn’t run anymore. When your dad realized he would go to prison, he killed himself. I’m so sorry.” It was as if someone had just torn my heart out of my chest. I was dying inside; I wanted my mom back! I felt so scared and helpless; there was nothing I could do to change what had happened and I hated it. I will never forget any part of that day, as much as I may want to, because it was the worst day of my life. A part of me died with my mom that day.

            That’s not the end of my story though. It was the end of 10 years of trauma and bad memories, but the beginning of a new life.