As I close my eyes I picture myself on the old wooden swing set in the backyard. I feel the breeze flowing through my hair as I’m flying through the sky. I’m at my happiest, the blissful ignorance of a little eight year old girl. I hear the horses running, their hooves against the cracked dirt. I can see the shimmering sparkle of the pond, fish jumping out of the water just to catch the sight of these glorious fox trotters, the finest of the breed, prize winning, show-me contestants, flocking to the feeding bins where their master stands. Life was easy, simple, and there wasn’t ever a problem that couldn’t be solved. Until, everything went dark. The smiles went away, the sun fell behind the clouds and the wind turned into an icy crisp. The pond froze over and the horses didn’t flock. That winter, my grandpa was diagnosed with lung cancer. …show more content…
It was a sunny afternoon, slightly windy with a chill. My family gathered at the funeral home, full of teary eyes and the aroma of heartbreak. Little did we know that would be one of the last days we’d be gathered together as a family, no matter the circumstances. That day the realization that my grandpa was actually dead, hit me in the gut hard. Mostly, I sat blankly like an empty shell, lifeless, trying to figure out why this had to happen. I began to distance myself. I would have rather been alone than surrounded by my family. I rarely saw my dad’s family anymore and for that I had no closure. I couldn’t weep with people who knew what I was going through. I had to deal with death alone. I began to have a negative outlook on life. I was mad at the world, confused and lost completely. I didn’t know what was wrong. My thoughts began to mix, I wasn’t making sense and starting acting out. I would snap in anger and every little thing in the world, outside of my isolation, aggravated and irritated me. I was letting go of myself, but the thing is, I didn’t seem to care at
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.
It was the biggest challenge she would have to face. Annika Lawrence was a typical 18 years old girl. She had long wavy chestnut hair, with bright blue eyes. She had many friends and a loving family with two dogs, Daisy and Hunter. She had just graduated from a local high school in her town. Her life was perfect, until she went for her physical and was diagnosed with lung cancer. The doctor’s advice to her was “Stop counting your life by years and start counting them by weeks”. After her visit with the doctor Annika felt that she been punched in her guts, and it hurts.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
It had been a cold, snowy day, just a few days after Thanksgiving. My grandmother became immensely ill and unable to care for herself. We knew she had health problems but her sudden turn for the worst was so unexpected and therefore we weren’t prepared for the decisions that had to be made and the guilt we would feel. Where would grandma live? Would she be taken care of? So many concerns floated around. A solution was finally found and one that was believed to be the best or so we thought.
I can still remember that small enclosed, claustrophobic room containing two armed chairs and an old, brown, paisley print couch my dad and I were sitting on when he told me. “The doctors said there was little to no chance that your mother is going to make it through this surgery.” Distressed, I didn’t know what to think; I could hardly comprehend those words. And now I was supposed to just say goodbye? As I exited that small room, my father directed me down the hospital hallway where I saw my mother in the hospital bed. She was unconscious with tubes entering her throat and nose keeping her alive. I embraced her immobile body for what felt like forever and told her “I love you” for what I believed was the last time. I thought of how horrific it was seeing my mother that way, how close we were, how my life was going to be without her, and how my little sisters were clueless about what was going on. After saying my farewells, I was brought downstairs to the hospital’s coffee shop where a million things were running
As I walked through the door of the funeral home, the floral arrangements blurred into a sea of vivid colors. Wiping away my tears, I headed over to the collage of photographs of my grandfather. His smile seemed to transcend the image on the pictures, and for a moment, I could almost hear his laughter and see his eyes dancing as they tended to do when he told one of his famous jokes. My eyes scanned the old photographs, searching for myself amidst the images. They came to rest on a photo of Grandpa holding me in his lap when I was probably no more than four years old. The flowers surrounding me once again blended into an array of hues as I let my mind wander……
At that time, I had never experienced the death of someone I knew. It seemed like something that happened to other people, not me, but it happened. He was one of my dad’s best friends and my dad was devastated. I didn’t hang out with Eric a whole lot, I mainly babysat his kids, but when I did, it was a great time. I didn’t really grieve when he died. I was sad that he died, but I was more sad for his wife and kids. I visited them a few times after it happened, and it was heartbreaking. His oldest child, Lily, had horrible nightmares and she was sleep deprived because of it. She was barely functioning. She was nine. When I was nine, the worst thing I thought could happen to me was having to go to school everyday to see this girl who always picked on me. I think that has to be a child’s worst nightmare, to lose a parent. Eric’s second oldest child, Dalton, stopped talking for weeks and he wouldn't eat. And Laythan, his youngest, was confused about the whole situation, but he was so young that he won’t really remember his dad. And his wife, she hasn’t been the same since. For a long time after he died, she would cry whenever she saw my dad because Eric loved him like a brother. It made me sick to see how much pain came from this, and if I could go back, I would make sure this never happened. There were many ways we tried to help them while they were grieving, but we couldn’t help them in the way they wanted to be helped; We couldn’t
It was a dark cold night in December. Opening the door to their house, the den sat quiet as usual, but something else was different. Walking to the living room, I did not hear a voice that always greeted me with joy. There was no room for joy, or laughter anymore. When I sat down, my Pa Pa’s bed sat across from me. I could see the bones through his skin, the bagginess of his white t-shirt, and the sadness that rest in his eyes. On his lips, a smile no longer lived. “Hi Pa Pa”, I say as I walked over to k...
Today was the day we went to the O’brien family farm to say our last goodbyes. I slipped on shorts and threw on a shirt. i securely fastened my ballcap to my head and slid my Grandpa’s pocket knife into my pocket. The thirty minute drive through rural Illinois was filled of rolling hills, and golden wheat. Rows of dull yellow Corn stalks went on as far as the eye could see. The road was smooth and accepted the cars as they glided across its surface. I lightly slid my finger across the cold metal point of my knife. Thinking what my grandpa thought as he made the drive through this very
During the time I knew my father was depressed, I could not contemplate why his disorder continued over many years or why it carried on even after my family managed to make him laugh. The death of my grandfather, his sibling’s feud over their inheritance, and becoming disabled critically influenced his depression. On Easter 2015, my father died by suicide. I was flooded with anger when I tried to comprehend my dad’s actions, when I discovered that my mother heard his plea but did not understand, and when my intermediate family blamed us for his death. Guilt overwhelmed me because I did not foresee his actions, I was uneducated on the disorder, and I had not effectively communicated my love to my father.
I cried in my room for hours wishing my dad would not go, a whole month without him seemed like the end of the world. I would have no one to play hockey with, no one to tuck me in at night and no one to eat donuts with every Friday. My dad tried to console me but I was too angry to listen to him, I suddenly hated my grandpa for causing my dad to leave me alone. At the airport my dad gave me a long hug and told me to be brave since I was now “the man of the house,” (even though I am a girl), I had to take care of my mom. Promptly this made me suck in my tears and stop acting like a “loser.” It was hard repressing my feelings, seeing my dad leave made my eyes tear severely but I held them back, the man of the house does not cry. Time went by faster when I was at school, I had less time to miss my dad. About two weeks later, my mom got a call from India, my grandpa had died. My mom broke down crying, she slammed the phone across the room into the wall. I felt scared to appr...
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.
Once the crying commenced, my mother called me, telling me that my last grandma had gone into the hospital. She collapsed in her apartment and was rushed to the emergency center. I had no idea what to do. I felt like God was just condemning me and attacking me for some reason. I went into this deep depression and I didn’t want anyone to talk to me, if they did, I would simply start crying.
Throughout life I have had many memorable events. The memorable times in my life vary from being the worst times in my life and some being the best, either way they have become milestones that will be remembered forever. The best day of my life was definitely the day that I received my drivers’ license. This day is one of the most memorable because of the feelings I had when I received it, the opportunities that were opened up for me and the long lasting benefits that I received from it that still exist today.
When I was younger, I had friends, but I was the person who did not want to dance at birthday parties. I was someone who enjoyed talking to the lunch moms instead of playing on the playground. I was shy and my mom handled everything for me. Until now, I did not know how much work went into raising me. I never knew that there were deadlines to paying bills or that appointments had to be made in advance, but everything changed one morning when I woke up to the blaring sound of my mom’s alarm. I was confused because she was a light sleeper, and I became anxious. I ran into her room, and immediately I knew something was wrong. The death of my mother during the first month of my eighth grade year, as a single event, did not instantly mark my transition to adulthood, but it did change my life forever. My mother died before she was able to watch me graduate middle school, before she was able to teach me how to drive, and before she was able to share all of her wisdom. Her death was the most painful experience I have ever encountered, but I was lucky enough