Yolanda Huerta
Professor Rogers
English 1A
9/24/12
Unfortunate Experience
I had always wondered how losing a
family member would feel like. At age
fourteen it became clear to me.
Someone’s death can either bring a family closer together or tear a
family apart. I can remember like it was
yesterday when my phone rung. It was my
best friend Lupe, she was drowning in tears, I was barely able to understand
her as she said “Come, I need you, my dad died”, (On his way to work, her dad had gotten into
a car accident and had not survived.) I
was shocked. I did not say a word. I
hung up and ran to her house as fast as my legs were able to go. I ran down my
street, which always had been covered by green trees. I do not remember seeing anyone or any of
those trees. I felt as if I was running
through a tunnel and as if I could see Lupe at the other end waiting for
me. As I ran it felt like I had been
running for miles; even though it had only been a few blocks. I was exhausted but I did not stop. When I arrived at her house I witnessed her
aunts crying out loud on each other’s shoulders, her uncles in exchange were
making calls to other family members while trying to be strong and hold back
the tears. This was a terrible scene to have to see at age fourteen. Then, on the warm sidewalk Lupe sat hunched over
with her hands on her face. I sat by her
and hugged her; she did not hug me back.
It was as if she did not notice I was there. She
would not cry, move or even blink. She
was pale as paper and in shock mode.
When she was finally able to speak she said she regretted the night
before when she had gotten mad at her dad for trying to make her smile and take
a picture with him. She said “I hate
myself. I should’ve taking the picture,
and I should have told him I loved him”.
I tried to make her guilt lessen because I knew it wasn’t her fault. I told
her she could not have predicted that night would have been the last night she
would have the chance to see her dad alive.
She insisted in blaming herself. She said to herself, “You’re so stupid Lupe”,
and then she would begin to cry inconsolably.
Late one afternoon, on the day of the funeral, I walked into her house
through the same street as I had done two days before. This time I was dressed all in black and
walking to her house slow like never before. I did not want to reach her house;
once before full of life, laughs and with family pictures all around. Now I hated how that same house felt cold and
appeared gray. I can imagine how Lupe
felt. There were many people at her house.
Everyone dressed in black, some
sitting, and many standing with tears in their eyes showing pain. There I saw Lupe standing next to her fathers
closed brown coffin. She looked over as
I walked in; she ran to me and threw her arms around my neck. After what felt like a long hug, she pulled
me into her room. (She needed someone she trusted to listen to her.) Her room was messy, clothes and trash all
over like it had never been before. As
we sat on her undone bed she looked into my eyes and said “I’m tired of
everyone telling me they are sorry, it just makes it even harder”. I was
thankful I had not said I was sorry for her loss like everyone else had. As always I was not able to say a word; I
didn’t want to say anything that would sound wrong or uncaring. Instead I kept quiet and hugged her, it was
the best I was able to do. A few minutes
later after many tears, we walked into her living room, which was were the
funeral was taking place. As we walked closer we saw her dad’s coffin
was now opened, as I held her hand I felt her shake. She asked me “Can you recognize him?” She was talking about her dad; he had been
fixed with too much makeup this made it hard to remember him as he really
was. After long hours we both fell
asleep in her room. That was the last time we saw her dad. As days past I noticed Lupe would go to
school with messy, tangled hair and many days with the same clothes. Lupe also began to drink, smoke and miss a lot
of school. She never told me from where
she got alcohol and cigarettes; maybe because I never even bothered to
ask. I never asked Lupe to stop her bad
behavior, either because I was scared at her reaction of me, her best friend
questioning her, or because I tried to best understand. She
felt alone and lost. If Lupe would come
home or not her mom would not notice and this became evident. One afternoon Lupe was dropped off by her
mom at my house. I heard her mom say “I’ll be here to pick you up at 8”. That
night Lupe and I sat on my front porch waiting for her mom to arrive but she
never did. Lupe was left free to drown
herself little by little. On Lupe’s
fourteenth birthday, March 27, 2009, she managed to get a bottle of tequila as
a gift. Lupe along with two of our close friends began to drink. I watched, I
had promised to take care of her, I failed.
I watched her drink that bottle of tequila like if she were dying of
thirst. As she drank she said “Daddy this goes for you”, with a fake smile on
her face and tears running down her cheeks.
Before I knew it Lupe was able to stand no longer. I watched her, helplessly lying on the cold
floor unconscious. With the help of my
other to semi drunk friends, managed to drag her to her aunt Sandra’s house; a
couple streets away from were Lupe got drunk.
She was not able to walk a single step or hold her head in place. It was as if she was asleep and her need of
vomiting would wake her often. As her
aunt Sandra opened the door she had a confused look on her face. She did not know what was going on. I had to
explain to her that Lupe was drunk and kept vomiting her immediate reaction was
to call the ambulance. When I heard the
sirens get closer and closer I got really scared and ran home. Aunt Sandra called my parents and told them what
had happened. I heard my mom say “I
cannot believe it, will she be able to get through this?” I knew my mom was
talking about Lupe. I panicked as I realized I was about to lose
my best friend; just like she had lost her dad.
I looked at my dad and mom; I begged them to take me to the hospital
with my best friend. They stared at me with a disappointed look on their face,
but I knew they had agreed to take me. I
watched my dad walk outside with some keys on his hand and a minute later I
heard him turn on the car. I ran outside
and jumped into the car, it was the quietest ride; my dad did not at all speak
to me. I got off the car; my dad
followed, hugged and said to me “everything will be okay”. He said
this because he knew I was scared out of my mind. I can remember Lupe lying so
innocent on the hospital bed. She looked
as innocent as when we were five years old.
Starring at her that night
brought back many memories. The best memory
was of the day I met her. I was new to the neighborhood and that day she
invited me to make sand castles with her at a small playground outside of my
house. I promised I would always be
there for her ever since that day we became inseparable. A few hours passed by and the doctor with a
very serious face came into the room and informed us (her mom, my parents and
I) that Lupe had gotten alcohol poisoning (of course she had, she chugged a
whole bottle of tequila on her own) but thankfully she would be okay. I felt a
relief in my heart. I saw her mom crying
and starring down at her little girl. I knew her mom had also felt a huge
relief. I knew she was starting to
realize she had not only lost her husband but was also so close to losing her
only daughter. (I would have just hoped she had taking this
incident seriously). That night Lupe’s
mom promised her she’d always be there for her.
She failed a few years later; her mom got remarried without even telling
her daughter. This destroyed Lupe, who had been trying very hard to get through
school. Lupe went back to drinking and
smoking, although deep down I know she is and will always be that innocent
little girl I met at age five. We are
still best friends to this day. Unlike
her mom I will keep my promise, Lupe does have and will always have me to
console her for the loss of her dad and partially of her mom. As of now I know how it feels to lose a
family member through Lupe’s unfortunate experience. Although, witnessing an experience is never
the same as living it in your own shoes.
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