by Sheri Lorenz

Created on: October 26, 2009   Last Updated: October 29, 2009

There was a day when death swept in and took away my family. What was left behind were a lot of battered souls and broken spirits that have never fully recovered. My first experience with losing a loved one was losing four people I loved very much in three days. I was sixteen and just trying to find comfort in my own skin. I was just starting to feel a bit settled and happy. I had just returned home after being hired for my first grown up job in an office, at a psychiatrist's office, which is something I have always found a bit ironic.

My foster mom (she has become as much a mother to me as my real mom) and I walked in the door ready to announce my new job and celebrate. I remember laughing and talking a mile a minute. I just couldn't wait to tell my sister how amazing I did at my interview. I had no idea that in the next five minutes my life would change forever and that my family would never be the same.

My sister was on the phone and told us to be quiet, so we started putting away the groceries we had picked up on the way home while we waited for her to finish. She was pacing and telling the person on the other end of the phone that she would take care of it. I remember her hanging up the phone and grabbing my mother by the arm, quite forcefully, dragging her into the bedroom and slamming the door in my face. I stood there stunned not really knowing what to do.

I could hear them crying and talking in hushed tones but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I didn't know what was wrong, but I did have a feeling of impending doom. I would pace for a few moments and then would sit down and stare at the door willing it to open and when it didn't, I would pace again. I now know, they were probably only in that room for about five minutes but it seemed like an eternity. I knew something was horribly wrong but all I could do was wait and wonder.

When they finally came out of the bedroom they walked toward me and at that moment I wanted to run, I wasn't sure why but I felt an immediate need to get far away from the words about to come out of those tear stained faces. I turned to leave when my mother told me she needed to talk to me and that I should sit down. That is a phrase that never ends well.

They led me to the couch, and I remember they sat on either side of me, each clutching one of my hands, yet neither could look me in the eyes. My mom took a deep breath, composed herself and then told me that my grandmother who had cancer had passed away. She had

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