April Morning

April Morning

From Chicken Soup for the Preteen Soul

April Morning

The date was April 19, 1995. I was getting ready for school like I usually did, and my mother, Diana, was getting ready for work. She worked at the federal building in Oklahoma City.

As I left for school, I told my mom good-bye. I told her that I loved her and that I would see her after school. Little did I know that I wouldn’t be seeing her after school, and that my life would soon be changed.

Around 1:30, a call came over the intercom, asking for me to come to the office to be checked out from school. I thought, Cool, it must be my mom. She would always surprise me like that and take me somewhere.

When I got to the office, instead of my mom, it was my grandpa and my aunt. They were both crying and had confused and worried looks on their faces. I didn’t have time to ask what was wrong. They grabbed me and we drove in a hurry to my house.

When I went in, my whole family was sitting around, crying and watching the news. I didn’t see my mom there. My eyes glanced at the TV and I saw the building where my mom worked. Most of the building had been blown up. People were coming out bleeding. I knew from that moment on, there was a chance my mom wouldn’t be coming home. So I fell to my knees and began to pray. The only thing that was going through my mind was, How could God let me down like this?

We all stayed at my house and waited to see if maybe they would find her alive. Hours went by and nothing happened. During that time I saw my mom’s friends coming out on stretchers. They were lifeless. I began to feel hatred toward whoever did this and cried even more. I felt useless. I couldn’t do anything. But my family was there and they helped me.

Days went by with no answer. I was in shock. All I wanted was my mom to come home and tell me that everything would be okay, but that wish never came true.

One Wednesday morning, two and a half weeks after the bombing, the crying of my aunt and grandma woke me up. I got out of bed to see if they were okay. They told me that my mom had been found.

I was so happy I couldn’t believe it. God had answered my prayers! I asked when she was coming home. They said she wouldn’t be coming home. I was a little confused. Then they told me that she didn’t survive the bomb. Mom worked on the seventh floor of the building. She was found on the second floor. I began to cry, and I thought, How could God let this happen?

My mother was the number one thing in my life, and now she is the number one thing in my heart. She did come home on the day of the bombing, not to our home but to her home in the sky. Now I feel that my mom is just waiting for the day when I come home. In the meantime, I will try to make her proud of me and always remember how special she was. Those thoughts and beliefs are what help me get through every day of my life.

Justin Day, fifteen

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