On April 21, 2022, before I left for a sleepover, I gave my mom a big hug. I remember the sweet smell of her favorite perfume, not knowing it would be the last hug I would ever give her.

Early the next morning, around 6 a.m. on April 22, I was woken up by my mom’s best friend at my friend’s house. Her voice was quiet, but her worry was loud, “You need to come home,” she said. The car ride felt endless. I couldn’t tell whether something was terribly wrong or something small, and my mind raced with every possibility. I didn’t know what to think until we finally reached my house, which looked normal on the outside. The street was quiet, the sun was just rising, but something was off, like a heaviness in the air. The second I walked in, it felt like the house itself was taking a breath, so quiet and tense.

I saw my dad, brother, and sister sitting silently on the couch. My stomach dropped. I knew something had gone terribly wrong. Then they told me my mom had passed away in a car accident. My world started spinning. I felt sick, like I couldn’t breathe, and again, everything around me went quiet. It was silent, but everything seemed so loud. I was trying to make sense of it all, but my mind wouldn't cooperate.

For the months that followed, grief felt like a heavy shadow following me around. It was everywhere, at school, with friends, even in moments where things should've felt normal. It snuck into all parts of my life, making ordinary days feel strange and like something was always missing. Even small things like hearing a familiar song, having to braid my hair on my own, and not having someone to go shopping with made me think about how much I took her presence for granted. But slowly, I learned to grow through it and began to notice my mom's influence guiding me.

My mom was a nurse who spent her life helping people. Thinking about her generosity and compassion made me want to follow in her footsteps. I began noticing ways I could improve myself, be kinder, more thoughtful, and strengthen my relationships with my family. It hit me that people walk around carrying things you can't see, and that changed how I treated everyone. I started volunteering at my church, at a nearby hospital to fill myself with the joy of helping others. Even small things like helping my neighbors by watching their kids felt important. I remember one weekend, I was helping my grandma with dinner, and she told me how much she appreciated the help. It reminded me of my mom, showing care doesn't have to be big to matter.

About a year later, I realized I wasn't the same person I used to be. I grew closer to my dad, brothers, and sister, and our family bond strengthened more than ever. We started doing family game nights again, such a small tradition that has a big impact on keeping my family connected. I also discovered I want to become a nurse, just like my mom. She taught me what real compassion looks like, and now I want to carry on that legacy.

Losing her will always be a part of my life, but so is everything she left me with: kindness, strength, and the importance of helping others. That's why my story reflects American culture, because it shows how we grow through hard times, learn from our experiences, and choose to take care of each other even when life feels overwhelming.

© Kyleigh. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.