Hi, I am an amateur at writing. To be honest I really don’t like to write. However, I am trying to write a memoir about my mother’s death, even if it is just for me. I am looking for positive criticism on how to improve.
The following is from lesson 2.
They hugged said goodbye, took a picture with her (this would be the last picture she would ever be in and just minutes before she died) and left. I finished hanging up the clothes on the outdoor clothesline. Hot humid summers are good when it comes to needing a free dryer. What better than free, fresh outside air.
Mom and I walked back into the kitchen and I went to sit on the couch. I watched her count her meds again and take a bite of the FiberOne cookie. She then walked silently into the bathroom. She never made a noise just calmly and quietly walked into the bathroom. My dad walks in there to brush his hair.
“Are you chocking Judy?” He said this in such a quite calm manner, I was stunned and confused at the same time. I jumped up to see and she was blue. She looked straight at me. I mean not just her lips were blue her whole face was blue. I could see she was afraid. She understood what was happening. The strongest feeling of fear washed over me. This was a complete terror, panic, and helplessness hitting me with a beam that is comparable to a firehose.
“Call 911!! Do the heimlich!! Do something she’s choking!!” I kept going in circles. He handed me the phone as he tried the heimlich. It took what felt like forever for the phone to connect. The feeling of panic was so strong it was choking my ability to think. I just knew that she was going to die and there was nothing I can do. As I waited for someone to answer the phone he began to panic even more.
“Are they sending an ambulance? Where are they?” He has a round bloated face and when he is upset it can be quite intimidating. He gently sat her on the floor. There was no sound coming from her. She was not moving but her eyes were open, she was awake. Was she hurting? Did she know?
“No one has picked up!” I gave him the phone to try. He must have gotten through because he started to talk to the 911 operator.
I picked her up, I wanted to try. I can stop this. This is not going to happen. I took my fat arms around her frail wast from behind. I pushed as hard as I could. I kept expecting the cookie to come flying out of her mouth. Noting. I pushed and pushed. I was sure the with my strong will alone that it would come flying out and she would be breathing again. Her body started to convulse. She was shaking in my arms, and then went limp. At this point, panic turned to desperation. I had to stop this. I gently laid her body on the floor, then I ran to get the other cell phone to call my sister. If I could not stop this, then maybe she could.