Hey, My name's Cheyenne. The only reason I am writing this is because my mom said, and I quote, " maybe if you wrote down your thoughts and feelings about what happened this summer you will feel a bit better…you'll have a sense of closure. Whatever. Since I have no life I figured I would actually listen to my mom. My life has died and been buried.
Before I talk about this summer, I may as well start from the beginning, before I was alive, well, here is goes:
Once upon a time, in 1983, two young people met. Who were they you may ask? Michael Montgomery was a quarterback for Somerset High's football team. He has wavy black hair and the type of smile that made you melt when you looked at him. Debbie Lancaster was a preppy, intelligent cheerleader. She had long, blonde hair and deep blue eyes. This sounds like the typical boy meets girl story, eh?
After three years of dating, Michael proposed. And of course, Debbie accepted. For the first three years of their marriage, Michael worked hard at getting Montgomery Auto Services on its feet, while Debbie took night courses at Somerset Community College. All she ever wanted to be was a mom. Finally, on February18 of 1989, Michael and Debbie were blessed with two healthy twin girls. Cheyenne Elizabeth and Callie Erin.
Cheyenne a.k.a me, I was always the quiet one. I had a sense of humor that I used to get me through all sorts of situations. Callie, my sister, was always the outgoing one. The type of person that would stick up for the "nerds" in a cafeteria catfight. Although very popular, she never stuck with a clique. She always made sure to get equal hours in with the band geeks and the debate team.
Our family was perfect… well until our 14th birthday. That day, our wonderful (sometimes annoying) dad was in a horrible accident. He was coming home early from work with our birthday feast (pizza!) when a drunk driver hit him. He was on life support for 2 weeks when the doctors declared him brain dead. I have never seen my mom cry so much. My mom said it would be for the best if we turned the support off. She said dad had lived a fulfilling life. Callie willingly agreed. I didn't. I wanted him to walk me down the aisle when I got married. I wanted him to see his grandchildren. I wanted to see him with gray hair. I wanted him.
Callie pulled me into the janitorial closet of the hospital. Pretty classy, huh? She told me that I was being a selfish brat and to smarten up. Callie said that he would never be completely alive again and that it is for the best to end his suffering. So, after confrontation, I also agreed.
After we took him off of support, he took three breaths, then died.
The funeral was lovely, in a sad sense. After the pastor spoke and my Uncle Luke did the eulogy, me and Callie sang my dads favorite song. I Will Always Love You. Then we buried him.
Now, I am sixteen years old. Our family is very good even though we're missing a member. Callie and I started hanging out with friends again, mom even got social. My life was finally on its feet again. Then mom told us about Lucas.