The silence of the morning; the moment I faced reality.

Packing my school lunch for the first time, I realized my mother would never be able to do this for me again. Even the simplest things would trigger a deluge of emotions.

The first day back was the hardest. Everyone asking where I had been, what had happened, was I okay. Holding back tears, I’d put on a brave face and try to brush it off. For the first few weeks, I used school as an escape. I could focus on the history of the world or an algebra problem.

Then, I would come home to uncharted territory. My father and I no longer had a comfortable routine to cling to. My days of doing homework, eating a home cooked meal, and relaxing were no longer in sight.  We had to work together to fill in the vast void left by my mother’s passing. A chef, personal assistant, chauffeur, the list goes on and on. I began to see the selfless love I had taken for granted for so many years.

I do not resent the extra burden put on my shoulders; in fact, I am grateful for it in some ways. Now I know I can not only survive on my own, but also thrive on my own. I did not let this misfortune be an excuse for anything. Of course it would be easy to let people feel sorry for me and let me off easy, but I do not wish for people to pity me. When my name is mentioned, I do not want “the girl whose mom died” to come to mind, but instead, I wish to be recognized for my achievements and the values I hold.