a essay about a mother that get killed in the Omagh bombming; mixture of facts and my imagination P.S.: English as a foreign language

The one cruel action that changed my life forever......

My mother is dead, my father is an alcoholic on anti-depressives, my brother is a terrorist and I'm a lonely, sorrowful pre school teacher who is trying to find my way back to life.

The story I want to tell, started the night our mother went to the shop and never came back; ever.

We were until that day an ordinary lower middle-class family. My parents had chosen to move to Northern Ireland to improve their lives. It was easier to find jobs there as well as the houses were cheaper. We were living in the city Dromore approximately 15 miles SW of Omagh. In Omagh my mother had a little, but well established drapery shop, S. W. draperies. My brother and I had until the 15. August 1998 lived a harmonious life with Sunday outings, afternoon tea and no larger worries than our exams etc. But this should soon change....

My mother went to her shop, late evening, on Friday the 14 august. She had to prepare for the Saturday. The school holiday was soon over, so her shop was quite busy selling school uniforms. A carnival was also planned, so she was hoping for a bit of extra business. There was a little one bed room flat on top of her shop. It was meant to become mine the following summer, when I would hopefully be finished with university. She slept there that night as it got really late. She probably, as always opened up the shop at 9 O'clock, greeting her customers with a smile and a little chat. Having her lunch-break around half one, walking around the corner down Dublin Rd. to the little sandwich shop, where she always had her lunch.

This Saturday had been exactly...