Faith by Morgan Langenstein

Awesome

Unique

Nice

Terrific

Caring

Adorable

Rare

Organized

Loving

Youthful

Neat

Faith

“Did you just say what I think you said?”

“No.”

“You have five seconds to smack your mouth or I will.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

“Five, four, three,”

*Smack* The next thing I knew I hit my own mouth harder than she would have. Aunt Carolyn has the strongest faith and mentality of anyone I have ever met. My aunt battled cancer, and it was hard.

“I don’t really care if she has cancer, I didn’t like her that much.”

There was a time I didn’t like my aunt.

“Do the dishes.”

“No, I am going to stand here all day if I have to, but I won’t do dishes.”

All I remember was being held in a tight position and screaming

“Let me go, I hate you, I hope you die! Aghhhhhhhh!”

After the screaming match we were okay, I liked my aunt.

“Hi Tabetha!”

“Morgan is rubbing circles on my head so my hair grows back curly like hers.”

When the cancer was gone, and her hair started to come back, it came back in curls.

Going to the hospital I fell asleep in the car, when I woke up, I grabbed my flowers and get well card, I could see the windows of the hospital. It was cold out. In her room she had a window you could sit in, a small bathroom, and a chair beside her hospital bed. I sat in the window, and she told us all about her surgery and showed us where her tumors were removed. Aunt Carolyn sat up in bed, and grabbed her I.V. bags so we could walk in circles around her wing.

Through her cancer there was never a day she wasn’t fighting. Walking out on my porch where she and mom talked for hours, I heard her say she was rejecting the chemotherapy; I was worried that meant something bad, but she told me, “I’m not losing my hair again so I won’t be taking the chemo treatments.”

I was okay with that. Her hair made me happy, and the chemo always kicked her when

she was down. She currently has no cancer, but tumors could come back.

I remember Mom waking me up early in the morning, “Morgan wake up I have to tell you something.”

“I don’t want to go to school.”

“It’s the middle of summer you don’t have school, get up I have bad news.”

I knew what it was, I didn’t know who but I could feel the death in my gut. I sat up and looked my mother in the eyes as she sat at the bottom of my bed trying to soothe me. She prolonged it and made me wait anxiously to hear what happened. Gently I brushed her hand off of me, “Just tell me already, stop being weird.”

“Chris is dead, he overdosed last night.”

I only remember falling back into bed as if what she said didn’t matter, and then it hit me what she said. I sat up quick like I had just got the wind knocked out of me and I curled into a ball where I stayed for the rest of the day crying.

Group is a place for people to go to talk about how drugs have affected their lives. Chris was a meth addict, so he attended this group.

“I used to hate group, I swear the only reason I was going was to hear the funny remarks Chris made.”

Chris was always close to me in a way, I felt like we got each other in a sense. I remember going to church with Aunt Carolyn and making fun of the old ladies who cackled with Chris.

“Did you see that one? Her teeth almost fell out.”

My mom told me the hardest thing to happen in life is to lose your own child, and I believe it. I have never seen my Aunt Carolyn cry. Going to her house the day after he died and sitting with her while we ate all of the food she was given, was an experience. She was still strong and her faith in God was stronger than normal. I admire her faith because it is something I struggle with sometimes; I tend to question God when things go bad when I should really put my faith in him because he has a plan for us all.

Chris was the kind of guy you could throw pencils at old ladies in a church with, and everyone got his humor except for his mom. Losing Chris is hard on Aunt Carolyn, the reason I say this is because she still hurts. We all hurt. Sometimes I walk by mom in the kitchen and I can hear Aunt Carolyn crying over the phone; my mom says crying is for the weak, but I think crying is for the strong. If you are brave enough to put your feelings out like that congratulations to you because not a lot of people have that trait.

Aunt Carolyn is strong, and wise. She has great faith, courage, and morals I aspire to have.

My Aunt Carolyn is someone to look up to, and that is why she inspires me. She has been through so much pain and still makes life a beautiful journey.

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