Rivers of Tears



102nd Street and First Avenue, NY, NY

Neighborhood: East Harlem

It was March 16,1998 around 3:30pm, I remember it like it was just yesterday. As I made my way through my house door from school, I heard the phone ring from the kitchen. I went to drop my books off in my room which is at the end of the hallway. I went back to the kitchen to see who had called, and my mother had gotten a phone call from the hospital where my grandmother was and they gave my mother the news that my grandmother had passed away. I remember seeing my mother sitting at the kitchen table when she got the phone call. After she got the phone call I remember seeing my mother dropping the phone as she started running to her room saying, “It can’t be, It can’t be”. Seeing my mother screaming and crying, and knowing that my grandmother had passed away was like a sword going through my heart, which soon turned into a river of tears. Just looking at my mother made me want to break down and just give up on everything that I had to live for. I never felt so much pain, like the pain that I had felt that day. That day was full of tears and sorrow which will never be forgotten, until the end of time.


This essay was written as a part of a HREF=”http://www.Mapsites.net” TARGET=”_new”>Mapsites.net workshop.

Rate Story
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (No Ratings Yet)

§ One Response to “Rivers of Tears”

  • estefani Aguirre says:

    I like this essay i can relate to the writer. My mother also recieve a phone call but it was at night when she was told that her mother in law (my grandma) had passed away. My grandma also died in the hospital. This story made me remember immediately of my experience.

§ Leave a Reply

Other Stories You May Like

Nearby East Harlem Stories



Having grown up in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood, most of my friends were Cuban. Marly was my best friend throughout [...]

The Man in the Window


Former Downtown Girl Vanessa move to Spanish Harlem and is captivated by a mysterious neighbor...

Where East Village Meets West


Where East Village Meets West VillageI’ve spent the last ten years of my life in the East Village of Manhattan, [...]

The Old Lady on the Steps


She smells of Ultra sheen hairspray and old Ivory soap

Street Fight


I knew they were drunk because they couldn't even swing right