The death of a loved one will always be one of the hardest things anyone can ever experience in one's life. Especially, if you had such a distinctive but special connection with them, making you believe that it’s not possible to ever find someone who is capable of having that same very connection with you. I still remember that remarkable relationship I once had with my grandma; it was one of the best relationships I could have ever asked for. Actually, it’s still an ideal relationship I wish I could possibly obtain with others. However, I fear of having the same type of connection if I am only going to lose at the end because the other person left. When my mother got that phone call saying that my grandma had died earlier that morning, the unforgettable pain and emotions hit me harder than I expected. I was shocked and speechless at first, and my mind couldn’t comprehend the idea that my grandma was truly dead. It seemed if I had pressed a button to make the whole world around me to stop for just a minute. At that moment, I felt my soul leaving my body, and all I could do was watch. I watched the chaos of my brother, mother, and father running around the house in a hurry to get ready to go see my late grandma. Then, my dad spotted me standing there in the middle of the …show more content…
The crisp, cold air hit my pale cheeks as I slowly walked towards the red car afraid of slipping on the black ice. Once everyone was seated in the car, my dad started the engine, and we all headed to Brooklyn Park. Forty minutes later, we arrived at Saint Therese at Oxbow Lake where my grandma was located at. We walked in to see my entire family and close family friends waiting in the dark halls of this retirement home. Tears were seen streaming down the faces of my mother and aunts as their own mother was lying dead behind this door. Finally, one of my older cousins had the courage to open the mahogany wooden
We all deal with death in our lives, and that is why Michael Lassell’s “How to Watch Your Brother Die” identifies with so many readers. It confronts head on the struggles of dealing with death. Lassell writes the piece like a field guide, an instruction set for dealing with death, but the piece is much more complex than its surface appearance. It touches on ideas of acceptance, regret, and misunderstanding to name a few. While many of us can identify with this story, I feel like the story I brought into the text has had a much deeper and profound impact. I brought the story of my grandmother’s death to the text and it completely changed how I analyzed this text and ultimately came to relate with it. I drew connections I would have never have drawn from simply reading this story once.
I rushed out of the bedroom confused. I began to realize what was going on. I ran to where I last saw her and she was not there. Never before I felt my heart sank. My eyes filled with tears. I dropped to my knees and felt the cold white tile she last swept and mopped for my family. I look up and around seeing picture frames of of her kids, grandchildren, and great grandchildren smiling. I turn my head to the right and see the that little statue of the Virgin Mary, the last gift we gave her. I began to cry and walked to my mother hugging her. My father walked dreadfully inside the house. He had rushed my great grandmother to the hospital but time has not on his side. She had a bad heart and was not taking her medication. Later that morning, many people I have never seen before came by to pray. I wandered why this had to happen to her. So much grief and sadness came upon
Joseph Campbell studied ancient greek mythology for many years. Joseph filled each stage of the journey very well. He accepted all the challenges he got and all the help he needed. He really knew how to fulfill all those stages. Like everyone goes through a heroic journey everyone has to have a story to tell. My story is very contrasty from Joseph’s because he really knew what all the stages meant. My hero's journey consists of my threshold crossing which was when I started depending on myself more than I did on others, my helpers/mentors like my parents, teachers,my sister and many more influential people in my life and my rewards were getting awards in school, having a nice family, and many friends.
Ever since the beginning of time, there has been life and death. In life, one makes many connections, many memories, and many mistakes. Then in death, one leaves it all behind, only being remembered by those one has encountered. However, the death of one's loved one is never easy. When they die, it is as if they took a part of their loved one with them.
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
A moment in time that I hold close to myself is the funeral of my grandmother. It occurred a couple of weeks ago on the Friday of the blood drive. The funeral itself was well done and the homily offered by the priest enlightened us with hope and truth. But when the anti-climatic end of the funeral came my family members and relatives were somberly shedding tears. A sense of disapproval began creeping into my mind. I was completely shocked that I did not feel any sense of sadness or remorse. I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to mourn, but there was no source of grief for me to mourn. My grandma had lived a great life and left her imprint on the world. After further contemplation, I realized why I felt the way I felt. My grandmother still
It was 2 months after Auggie’s graduation and everyone was getting supplies for the new school year at beecher prep. As everyone walked to their homeroom Auggie saw his best friend, Jack Will.
Though it may seem impossible, the most seminal moment of my experience came a few months before my birth. My grandmother’s suicide changed my life before it even began. Even though the experience clearly had no direct influence on me emotionally because I never met her and did not understand what happened until many years later, it has led to my strength in and value of empathy. Throughout my entire life I have heard about my grandmother from my mom and many others. Even though she passed away nineteen years ago, her life’s impact and her death’s impact still weigh heavily on the lives of my family, including me even though I never met her.
I figured someone had passed away, but I didn't think much of it. My father spoke to me in a very calm and soft voice with tears in his eyes. In between his words you could hear the hurt. He told me that my godmother had passed away. I sat there not knowing what to say, but could feel the hurt overwhelm me.
It was the middle of the night when my mother got a phone call. The car ride was silent, my father had a blank stare and my mother was silently crying. I had no idea where we were headed but I knew this empty feeling in my stomach would not go away. Walking through the long bright hallways, passing through an endless amount of doors, we had finally arrived. As we
Dr. D is a cardiothoracic surgeon. He was my hero. He may well still be, even though he is a throw-back to the days when I was more concerned about science than symbolism.
It was July 22nd when I got the phone call that my great grandma was in the hospital. It was so shocking to me I didn’t even know what to think I had just been up there to see her two days ago prior to then. My dad had called me and told me in a calm but of course I know my dad to well to know that he was calm but actually pretty scared and frantic. I was at work and a perk to my job is that I work at a family owned business that is actually close to my family.
It was a Monday night; I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just completed my review of Office Administration in preparation for my final exams. As part of my leisure time, I decided to watch my favorite reality television show, “I love New York,” when the telephone rang. I immediately felt my stomach dropped. The feeling was similar to watching a horror movie reaching its climax. The intensity was swirling in my stomach as if it were the home for the butterflies. My hands began to sweat and I got very nervous. I could not figure out for the life of me why these feelings came around. I lay there on the couch, confused and still, while the rings continued. My dearest mother decided to answer this eerie phone call. As she picked up, I sat straight up. I muted the television in hopes of hearing what the conversation. At approximately three minutes later, the telephone fell from my mother’s hands with her faced drowned in the waves of water coming from her eyes. She cried “Why?” My Grandmother had just died.
Two years and four months ago I died. A terrible condition struck me, and I was unable to do anything about it. In a matter of less than a year, it crushed down all of my hopes and dreams. This condition was the death of my mother. Even today, when I talk about it, I burst into tears because I feel as though it was yesterday. I desperately tried to forget, and that meant living in denial about what had happened. I never wanted to speak about it whenever anyone would ask me how I felt. To lose my Mom meant losing my life. I felt I died with her. Many times I wished I had given up, but I knew it would break the promise we made years before she passed away. Therefore, I came back from the dead determined and more spirited than before.
On the day my father died, I remember walking home from school with my cousin on a November fall day, feeling the falling leaves dropping off the trees, hitting my cold bare face. Walking into the house, I could feel the tension and knew that something had happened by the look on my grandmother’s face. As I started to head to the refrigerator, my mother told me to come, and she said that we were going to take a trip to the hospital.