A dry hand, dirty, and rusty. He had working hands. He worked everyday. He was a hard working man. My father was a handsome man. He would always make sure there was food on the table for us. He has been so good to us. He supported us in everything that we did. He was the one that could come into a room and lighten it up with his bright smile that he always had even if he had been having a bad day. He’d put that all aside because he always knew that at the end of the day that he was going to be able to see us, his family again,

My mother was a nice beautiful woman. She always made sure that everyone was having a fun and good time. She always made sure that in everything that we did, we would always have fun doing it. You could always find my mother laughing. She’d make others laugh as well. She worked hard too, just as well as my father did. They were happily married. Everyday was like they were just falling back in love with each other all over again. My father was always a gentleman to our mother.

It seemed like just yesterday when I last saw my mother and father. But really it’s been three months. I missed them dearly. If I could wish them back, I would within a heartbeat. Everyday I think about them. If only I could’ve reminded them how much I loved them; if only I could’ve said good-bye.

A few months ago my parents were victims to a terrible murder. It was their anniversary and they had plans to get out of town and go somewhere for the night. I didn’t know exactly what their plans were, but all I knew was that they were supposed to be back before the night had ended. My brothers and sisters were staying at our mother’s friend’s house. She was watching over us while they were out for the night. My mother said that she would’ve called by the time she got home.

The next morning came and no one had heard from my mother or my father. We all started to get a little worried. We reported a police report for missing persons. We later soon found out that the police went to their house and found them lying on the ground dead. They had been shot according to the police. My brothers and sisters and I were all devastated. There wasn’t much evidence for the police to know for sure who had murdered them.

Later when a few days had gone by, my younger brother and sisters and I were put into foster care. It wasn’t long before we had gotten adopted. It was a nice, lovely looking couple that had just gotten married a few years ago. They’ve been trying to have a family, but it wasn’t possible for the women to get pregnant.

We later soon got settled in and tried to make ourselves at home as much as we could. It was hard at first getting used to the different ways of living. It was such a different life style that we had going into foster care.

Me being the oldest isn’t the easiest either. I have to look strong for my younger brothers and sisters and it’s not that easy. I try to make everything look like its okay, but really I’m just torn up in the inside. Sometimes I just want to break out crying, but I can’t do it in front of my brothers and sisters. I’m supposed to be the role model here. Everything was so different not having my parents around anymore. But I always remind myself that they are still up there looking down at us watching everything that we do.

Really, my brothers and sisters and I all keep to ourselves. We try not to bother each other. We are still not used to being separated from our parents. But on the inside, we all know that we are there for one another. I know I may have lost my mother and father, but I know that I still have my younger brothers and sisters. I just want my parents to notice that I am trying my hardest as being the older sister. I’m trying to be a role model here.