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My mother died two weeks ago, and it's been a world changing experience. I'm seventeen, I have brother who's seven, and my dad. My mom was great. She cleaned, cooked, and worked eight hours a day, never complaining and always managing everything just perfectly. She was at home when it happened, she complained that she felt like throwing up. That led to her having a hot flash, and lying down in bed. Dad and I suggested we all go to the ER to have her checked out. She refused, she simply would not go.

My dad ran across to street to get a neighbor who is a nurse. I sat there with mom, asking her how she felt. She described the aches in her arms, the squeezing pressure in her chest, and the coldness that hit right after her hot flash. She was out of breath, looking like she had just ran a couple miles, and was as pale as the sheets, even with makeup. Dad and the neighbor arrived. His name was Cole. Cole kneeled down next to the bed, checked her pulse, and was talking to her about her symptoms. After talking to him later, he said he was about to tell her to go to the hospital to get checked out to make sure everything was all right when she said "I feel really light headed, I think I'm going to faint." She rolled over in bed and died. (We later found out she died of a heart attack, a clot in her left anterior descending artery, but with no signs of cholesterol or heart disease)

Dad and Cole started CPR, I called 911, paramedics arrived, later the coroner, later the people from church. I must have been in disbelief because I didn't shed a tear until everyone left. The next day, I wasn't sad, I wasn't crying, I wasn't even caring, because nothing important had changed yet. However, I had a physical ache in my chest, it felt like I had been punched in the sternum, and it really hurt. A day or two later, family started arriving for the funeral, they quickly pissed me off, so I reclused to my room to play Grand Theft Auto 3 which had just arrived in the mail.

The funeral day came, we were going to bury my mother, the person who had given birth to me, cared for me for the last 17 years, who had given me a brother. Throughout the funeral, my eyes were bone dry until they closed the casket. I wept like a baby for 5 minutes, and that was that. I stayed at graveside until the hole was filled, and left my sorrow there. I havn't cried since, and the loss only hurts at night, when I would normally be talking to her right after I come home from work, when I would kiss her goodnight every night I was home, for 17 short years.

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