MPA Student Work

Grade 11 Event Writing by Amrita Kaur

The Grade 11 class was given an assignment to write about an event from their own lives. We were exploring the line between non-fiction and fiction when writing about autobiographical events. Here is one of the results from Amrita:

The Last Breath

The day it happened I was not prepared for the truth that fell before me.

I was sitting there, the room full of aunts, uncles, family and friends. There she was, beautiful and glowing like always except for her almost motionless breath, the suspenseful inhales and exhales, each one dying to escape. I could not tell which one would be her last.

As I sat there holding her dying yet warm and frail hand I tried to be strong, say it wasn’t over, but when I saw the look on my father’s face I cracked. I began to cry. All I wanted to do was talk to her, tell her how much I loved her, and tell her how grateful I was for every thing that she has ever done for me. At that moment I stood up and leaned over to whisper in her ear. I wanted so badly to tell her everything in the world. Every little thing I had ever thought, felt, done. How delicious her food was, how wonderful her voice was, and how happy her smiles made me, but all that came out was, “I love you and you can go, everything will be taken care of.” Still to this day I wonder if she heard me.

As the room filled with more friends and family, everyone began to cry. My brother only eight years old didn’t know how to react. His face looked sad, confused, and angry all at once.

Every one in the room started to recite banis and pray. Looking around at all the sad faces made it even harder to be there. All I could do was lay my head beside hers and cry.

Then it happened, or should I say it didn’t happen? The next inhale never came. As the nurses took off all the tubes and wires that were attached to her still warm and frail body, I became hysterical. I stood up and gave her a very gentle yet extremely loving hug, and ran out of the room.

Looking down out of the seventh story window of St. Joseph’s hospital into an empty parking lot, I called my friend to let her know what had happened. All I could say was”She’s gone!”
After some time of being alone I walked back into the room. Most of the people were gone, but a few stood around bathing and dressing her cold dead body. They dressed her in an elegant yet simple white suit and covered her with rose petals. And there she lay in peace, my mother, beautiful as ever.

And always will be!