When I was 9 I was a junior bridesmaid, my family was okay, (well, my life sucked, but it always has) and everything was as normal as it would be with four brothers and one sister and parents that were constantly fighting, little did I know, my life was about to get a whole lot worse. Every Sunday after church my family and I went to my grandparents for lunch, my grandparents were fine at, 60 healthyish and were very happy. Then one day my grandma fell. She tripped, she couldn’t get up. We got her up and a few days later she had a doctors appointment. I’m not sure when they found it, but my grandma had ALS a rare life threatening disease, it tore us apart. Now we’re in 2010, say late winter, we didn’t know how much time she had, but, she had two more years, two of the shortest years of my life. She went from walking without help to using a walker, to using a wheelchair, to bed rest. She went from eating normal foods to Smoothies. Now we’re in late 2011 I had heard snippets about one direction, but I didn’t have the time to listen to music, play with friends, talk to people. I was to busy helping take care of my grandma and when my mom or brother was taking care of her I was babysitting my sister and two younger brothers. My life was not only a nightmare but it was a very fast, yet slow nightmare. Skip ahead to November of 2012, my mom took my younger siblings, to see some family in indiana. One of my uncles had flown down to help take care of grandma and to see her. We were at my grandparents, my grandma was in the bedroom. Me, my two older brothers and my dad were there with my uncle and grandpa. We got a couple pizzas. As we were finishing our pizza, my uncle came into the living room and said that my grandma was looking like she was going, fast. She was hooked up to something that helped her breathe, her eyes were closed, her breath was more raspy. The end was near. I remember a doctor saying you will know when the end is near. My dad took out a Bible and started reading, my grandpa started to cry, my uncle looked like he was going to and my brothers both had tears streaming. And me? I had this huge knot in my stomach. My uncle told my grandpa we should take off the thing that helped her breath. It was time. My uncle slowly and carefully took off the mask, her breath was so silent we had to take a breath to hear it. That’s all it took, she was gone. My dad, the look on his face, it was like nothing I had ever seen before. My grandpa was crying saying no,no,no. My oldest brother had his hands holding on to his arms, shaking and crying. My other older brother had his head in his hands crying. My uncle was holding her hand and crying. And me? I couldn’t move. I stared into space not believing that she was dead. My dad hugged me asked me if I was okay, I just stared into space, I couldn’t even move. A few days later day of the funeral I was still like a zombie, a moving, fake smiling, talking zombie. Other wise I was fine, I’m usually mostly silent anyway. Then we get to the funeral doing good, in a fake zombie kind of way. And the viewing, I saw her laying there in that coffin and it was like satan took my heart and squeezed it. With a lump in my throat I move on holding back tears. Then the service, I was okay, until I saw my dads face, he was crying. It was like after satan squeezed my heart, he chopped it into little pieces. I took a deep breathe and looked away. About a half an hour later we’re about to sing one of her favorite hymns, I take a deep breathe and start singing, doing good, until the third verse. I just started bawling, she was gone, for real. It was like after Satan squeezed my heart and chopped it up, he then stomped on it. A few months later, I was still a mess, to the point where I almost commited suicide. I had found a container of pills and I was about to take them. Well my brother had his radio on and all of the sudden I hear What makes you beautiful, by one direction (I had heard of them, I just hadn’t really taken the time to listen to them, mostly because my family said they a stupid boy band, and to think I believed them). And all of the sudden I just stood up like a new person, and looked at the bottle in my hands. I emptied them into the toilet and threw the bottle away.
Now my life still sucks, my parents are still fighting, and even though my grandpa is moving to Oregon in September, I now have a escape, not suicide, not getting mad, but this awesome band called one direction. I have never told anyone this and have never been to anything to help me get through my life, but one direction gave me a reason to live and I would like to thank them. Because if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t have several awesome friends, I wouldn’t be enjoying staying up late with my little sister , who isn’t a directioner, not yet.
If you can’t find a reason to live, now you do, its all in one direction, a cute, funny, great voices, awesome band with five boys who love you for being a directioner, because without us, they would not be where they are either.
So thank you, one direction and thank you to those who read my story.
Love, lydia
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