Personal Narrative: A Mother's Death?

Prologue
I was three when my mother died. I was a sad looking three year old so skinny you could see my ribs. I was in the hospital with a father who was giving up hope and a mother that was slowly dying. My mother had lung cancer and a tumor in her brain, I was too young to realize that the time she fell asleep she would never wake up agian. Later that year I went to the funeral and my father did not. He was in his room not leaving, not cooking, not cleaning, not taking care of me, my grandmother had to picked me up and sit with me. I was holding the last thing my mother would ever give me, a turquoise instant camera. I was look out at the grassy area and saw a little girl about my age playing in a pretty yellow dress, who had brown curly
I was wearing nothing but my two-sizes-two-big Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles undies when the doorbell rang. I tried to continue but then ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. It ended with a forty-n- something year old man screaming, “ERICK JOSEPH MINGGLE GET THAT BLASTED DOOR!” I copied it word for word as a threw on a pair of jeans and started to walk towards the door. My Grandmother died a few years ago so I had to began to fend for myself. My father never left his room unless he is at work, it got so bad that when I came home he is never home and when he finally gets home he nomaly yells, ”Is dinner done yet” or, “You finally do something for a
She giggled and softly in a voice like silk, “Hi, I’m Amelia Washer, your new neighbor I thought I’d introduce myself. If you don’t mind, may I know your name?” I was leaning on the side of the opening and tried to get up but, I slipped and nearly fell on here, “Sorry. I’m Erick, Erick Minggle. I live here and yup.” She giggled again. I asked, “Would you like to come in, I ca get you something for you to drink?”
“Why not. P.S. if you try to murder me I’ll call the police.” She said in a joking manner. As she came I watched her, the house was cleaner than usual the day before was cleaning day. I guided her to the dining room table, which I forgot we had, and pulled out the seat for her to sit. “I have tea, water, or Dr. Pepper, what would you like?” I said as opening the fridge. “Water is fine. Thank you.” She began to twiddle her thumbs. It was quiet as I pulled out the two water bottles from the fridge, as I walked back I admired her dark brown curly hair half down, half in a braid, her pale skin, and her pale yellow dress. In my closet I have a dress like, It was the last dress my mother ever wore, It was a pale yellow dress with short sleeves and white buttons on the front. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean, and she did not have any make-up on. She was