Wednesday, June 24th, 2009 This was the day my life came crashing down. I woke up to the phone ringing. I looked at my clock. It read 7:32 a..m. Who would be calling me this early? As I leaned over to pick up the phone, my heart began to beat wildly. I knew who it was. "Hello?" I said in a voice that sounded braver than I felt. "Mommy's gone home, baby." Those words of my dad's still haunt me to this day, eight years later. My mom, my best friend, had died. We knew she was dying. We knew it was time, but it was still a shock to hear the news. My mom, my supporter, my fighter, my friend, was now gone. Mom stood up for me so many times, when teachers, psychiatrists, doctors, principals, and so called friends and family, criticized me. She was the reason I didn't commit suicide when I was a teenager. She was my reason to live. Now, she was gone. What do I do? I thought. How am I going to li...