It was the cold night of December 26th 2010. A blizzard was raging through

coastal Massachusetts.

A police officer came to our door and said something of a homicide case.

They had come to the wrong house though. The police officer came back and told

us that he had the right house with the wrong case. He told my grandfather that it

was something about Elizabeth McManus, that was one conversation I wish I never

eavesdropped on. That was all he told us before we were whisked to the Jordan

hospital in the police cruiser, we had assumed that Mom had just gotten drunk and

crazy again, not that it was a normal occurrence.

We walked into the Jordan hospital to see my father, a broken man sitting on the

hospital chairs.

“ Boys your mother is no longer with us” he weeped

At first I was very confused at the words that had just left my father’s mouth then it

registered in my mind that we were in Jordan hospital then I finally

recognized my mother was dead. It hit me like a blow to the head. I started crying

instantly and I cried, I cried until I had no tears left then I flung my head at the cold

hard wall only to stop myself, and then I hung my head: in shame and in sorrow.

My brothers and father kept crying as I just sat in a world of my own wondering

what I had done to deserve this terrible thing. We walked into another room where my mother’s parents

stood and looked as if the room they were in was a

torture room. My grandmother is unbelievably religious and looked like she went

to heaven with her daughter and had seen her whole family. My grandfather isn’t very religious


and took it like a blow to the head same as I. My dad is atheist and took it like he got ran over

and was crying for hours, the love of his life, suddenly gone.

We walked outside and the cold snow of the blizzard almost felt relieving on my hot face.