Antoinette M. Hurst: A Short Story

Her heart was pure as gold; anything I needed and she had, it was mine! She was one of the best teachers a kid could ever have; she always brought delicious treats for her class. Therefore, whatever that was left over she brought to her son and me. Every time she walked into a room, people 's faces lit up with joy and laughter. She was always kind-hearted and patient if someone didn’t understand a particular thing. This amazing woman was my aunt, Antoinette M. Hurst. My aunt and mother met in 1979; they were only 13. At the time, they were in junior high at a school named Gregory. They went to junior high, high school, and college together. They have been best friends for 34 years; that’s a long time! In March of 2000 my best friend John was

It was so devastating, we didn’t know what to say or do anything but cry. We used to eat dinner every night together until she was hospitalized. We used to always go to the movies on the weekend and sneak fast food in, I always put the food in my mom’s purse. When my aunt was in the hospital, my mom would visit her everyday. She would ask me, “Do you want to come to the hospital with me?” I would say, “no” because I was so sad to see her like that. In late November, early December, she started to get very sick. The cancer started to attack her bones and lungs. On December 15, 2012, my aunt, Antoinette M. Hurst passed away in a hospice. When we heard the news, my mother broke down crying because that was her best friend. My aunt is still my mother’s best friend until this day. My mother and aunt were the true definition of “Ride or Dies.” Later that day, my mother asked, “Phillip are you okay?” I didn’t say anything, I just hugged her tight. My mother told my brother that my aunt passed away; he was so angry. She never saw him graduate and she won’t be able to see me graduate. At her funeral, everyone was happy. It was a beautiful funeral until we arrived at the graveyard site. My mom just burst out in tears and said, “I’m going to miss my chica.” My aunt’s funeral was one of the saddest days of my life. Everything I do, I do it for her; my first tattoo was dedicated to her. I wish my aunt could see John and me walk across the