My Disaster After Hurricane Sandy

I wanted to share this story with the class on Thursday but was too nervous to do so.  I would love opinions on my nonfiction story of the night my uncle passed.  This night was a very meaningful night in my life and shaped me into the person I am today.

My Disaster After Hurricane Sandy

It was a dark and rainy night in November 2012. I was 13 at the time when Hurricane Sandy had just hit Queens, New York.  My parents and I had left our house to go visit my Uncle Phil, who was sick. We arrived at his house on Staten Island and the block was packed with cars, so it was hard to find parking. I thought this was so weird because it is never that packed unless they were throwing a birthday party.  We walked through the front door and right there in the living room was my uncle lying down on a hospital bed. I remember thinking that this was so strange at the time. Why does he need a hospital bed in his house if he is just sick? When I went to go say hello, my Aunt Kathy had told me to come back because he was asleep at the time and needed his rest.  She looked as if she had just finished crying her eyes out, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I made my way around the house saying hello to all my other relatives and then went to hang out with my two cousins Michael and Giorgio. Giorgio was 18 at the time and Michael was 8. I remember sitting in the kitchen joking around trying to get our minds off of my uncle.  We decided to go outside and play some basketball. While playing basketball, we were reminiscing on the good times we had with my uncle and how he was always the happiest man in the room and the life of the party. One of our fondest memories was this one time on Easter when we all thought he was outside smoking, but he actually was hiding Easter eggs all around the block for us to find in a big egg hunt.  After being drained from basketball we decided to ask our parents if we can go to the corner store to get some candies and sodas for ourselves. Although my cousin Giorgio is older than me, my parents put me in charge because he is autistic. After getting back from the store, I was hoping that my uncle was awake so I could say hi to him. My parents wouldn’t let us in the house. I remember I thought this was strange at the time, but I also didn’t want to question it because I didn’t want to worry my cousins.  We went to their neighbor’s house and watched the Knicks game. They were up against the 76er’s. As the game goes on I can hear muffled screams coming from my cousins’ house, so I make the television louder to mask the screams. Halftime hits, and there is no longer screaming coming from next door. I make my way outside and see my mom standing on the steps of my cousins’ house. We locked eyes and I ran to her. With tears streaming down my face I looked at my mom and asked, “Is he dead?” I knew the answer already, but I just wanted to be sure. She pulled me close to her chest and said, “Yes.” I was devastated, I yelled back, “I didn’t even get to talk to him today; I didn’t even say hi!” This was the moment that will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life. I couldn’t believe my uncle was dead, I would never see him again.  This is when I realized that my cousins were without a father, and I could never imagine my life without mine. As I grew up, my parents told me that my Uncle Phil had stage 4 cancer and that they knew he was on borrowed time. I made it my mission to always be there for my cousins no matter the circumstances. It was hard being that we lived in totally different places, but I always find the time to text them and see how they’re doing. When I got my driver’s license I would drive to Staten Island occasionally whether to just visit them or even to drive Michael to his baseball games. That was my disaster after Hurricane Sandy.