“What’s going on? Do you have any news?” I asked desperately. It was dark in the night; the moon was not shining tonight and a cloud of hopelessness surrounded everyone who had gathered at the Hospital’s entrance. “What happened?” Everyone was now crying – desperate, incredulous… devastated. “What? He died? NO! It can’t be true… but he was just fine… it was only his leg…!” It could not be possible. “Beep-beep-beep” the alarm clock rang. I woke up frantically, begging to God for it to be JUST a dream, but it wasn’t – he was actually gone. On January 14, 2008, Alan James Cross Lopez left this world to meet God, leaving everyone who knew him with a hollowed heart. I was at my parent’s room watching TV, approximately at eight o’clock at night. My sister came into the room looking for my mom, but there was something odd about her gaze, she was preoccupied. “Li, what’s going on?” I asked. “Alan had an accident; he’s at the hospital right now. I’m going over there with a friend; you can come if you want,” she answered. Thinking it was nothing serious, I refused to go, for I was too comfortable in my parent’s bed watching TV. I had known Alan for a year or more now, and he was the nicest man I have ever met. Thinking it thoroughly, I decided to go; he would have done the same thing in my position. The hospital was very far away, and sometime throughout the drive I regretted going, thinking I had come such a long way for just a broken wrist, or that maybe I would be the youngest person and that would have been very awkward. The night was very dark and cold. The street lights lightened the way, while cars rushed through “La Suburbana.” When we finally got to the hospital, I realized I was not the youngest one nor the only one going t... ... middle of paper ... ...that he did not mean anything to me, or that I did not love him enough to miss him. “Why him?” I found myself saying. “Why him?” I found myself reaching for the nearest wall to sit down… praying, cursing. Alan James Cross died that night in a car-motorcycle accident. The “final” version of the accident was that he had left his friend’s house in such a rush that he did not put his helmet on. When the car hit him, he was thrown out from his bike and into the asphalt, hitting the back of his head in the way. Alan left this world peacefully, for he had no enemies. I know he went straight to heaven, for I have not met a holier, most graceful man in my life other than him. He was a saint, as many said. He gave his life to others, and expected nothing in return; a perfect gentleman and a perfect friend. “Alan, you will always be in my heart; I will love you forever.”
“Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right, north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-south-west, then paused, and, after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. South-south-west, south, south-east, east.” Unexpectedly, his feelings, that he so frantically needed to clutch, wound up being the death of him yet that is what being a human is about.
-T hose of you who were fortunate enough to meet Bradley Nowell, saw a man who liked to smile and sing. He did these two things with the greatest of ease. The man we knew liked to pick up a guitar, not needles, but on the 25th of May in 1996, many of us were shocked by the news of his tragic death. Just seven days earlier, he married the beautiful Troy Dendekker. Things were lookin absolutely bright for him. It was rumored that he even woke up extra early on the morning of his death to walk his dog on the beach because he felt just great to be living. Hours later after he woke up, he was found dead from a heroin overdose in his San Francisco motel room.
It was a short ride, the hospital only being five minutes away from the police station. He had to walk a block over, apparently McDonalds and Taco Bell made for a better bus stop. John hurriedly jogged his way to the building, wasting no time to get to work at the New Wolf Police Station. When he entered the building the noisy commotion of a seven AM police station on a Monday came to a halt. He was getting stares, everyone had heard of the awful news and the bandages that covered parts of John’s head didn’t help.
Though most have a desire to leave earth and enter eternal life peacefully, without any sorrow, the departure of a loved one can be despondent. Previously in 2011, my grandfather passed away due to heart failure. It was an arduous battle, not only for my grandfather, but also for the close knit family surrounding him. His battle with heart failure enabled me to create unforgettable memories with him, even in his final days. Laughing together, playing together and learning significant values about life together made me grow to become a more mature and wise person. Therefore, my personal experience is entwined with empathy because the death of my grandfather has made me realize how dismal it is to lose someone important. It also interplays with self-interest because I have grown as an individual to deal with the ache that is attached to losing a family member. It has helped me to realize how beautiful the gift of life is. Stephen Dunn, the poet behind Empathy and my story are connected because they both involve the feeling of empathy for others and the self-interest of an individual. They help us to grow and learn about ourselves and the emotions of
I had just walked into Annie’s room to find her screaming in pain. I ran to find the supervising nurse and rushed back to comfort Annie. Shortly after, the nurse came, fed Annie her medications, and walked out. Not a word was said. But I knew Annie was afraid, confused, upset; managing deep pain in her body. I knew she did not want to be alone, so I stayed beside her for a while, holding her hand until she fell asleep, telling her she would be okay. ================
I hid my face as I sat desperately alone in the back of the crowded church and stared through blurry eyes at the stained glass windows. Tears of fear and anguish soaked my red cheeks. Attempting to listen to the hollow words spoken with heartfelt emotion, I glanced at his picture, and my eyes became fixed on his beloved dog. Sudden flashes of sacred memories overcame me. Memories of soccer, his unforgettable smile, and our frequent exchange of playful insults, set my mind spinning. I longed only to hear his delighted voice once more. I sat for what seemed like hours in that lonely yet overcrowded church; my tears still flowed, and I still remembered.
Now that the summary is out there for all who did not get to read the story let’s make some connections to everyday life. In the story is it said by the author that, “All the while I hated myself for having wept before the needle went in, convinced that the nurse and my mother we...
As the car spun, all of my best memories played in my mind: my father teaching me about the solar system, the birth of my siblings, the first time I rode a bicycle, the day my parents decided to be together again, my graduation, the day I was notified I had won the Walton Scholarship, my first day in the United States, among others. Once Kaela, my roommate, and I, were able to leave the fuming car, we crawled to the edge of the road to lie on the ground and assess our injuries. Two ladies that were driving by, came to our rescue and took us to the hospital. During the entire ride to the hospital, as I struggled to remain conscious, I could not help but repeat, “Please Kaela, tell them not to send me back to Honduras, I need to help my family.”
It felt so dragged out because all I wanted was to see him and tell him the news. Our connection felt different, phone calls were made shorter and they weren’t as frequent. I missed him. Two nights had gone by without a phone call or even a message. This wasn’t typical of Luke. I was becoming increasingly worried. I tried to distract myself from the situation and went to Atlanta to visit my parent’s for the weekend. This provided a distraction from my despair. When I arrived home, the flat fell silent. I sat aimlessly on the sofa, starring at the telephone, hoping that maybe it would ring. I tried turning my television on but I was oblivious to anything around me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I knew something was wrong. Fifty-five minutes passed, as I stared at the phone. That was when I heard it
Each of you here had your own relationship with my Dad, each of you has your own set of memories and your own word picture that describes this man. I don’t presume to know the man that you knew. But I hope that, in this eulogy that I offer, you will recognise some part of the man that we all knew, the man that is no longer amongst us, the man who will never be gone until all of us here have passed.
OUCH! My leg crippled with pain. I tried to shuffle my way to the window, but it was excruciating. As my senses kicked back in, I felt pains shooting up and down my body. Peering down at my hands I screamed. My hands were covered in cold, congealed blood.
I wake up in this room. My mother is to my left crying with her face in the palms of her hands. My dad, he paces the floor with his hands in his pockets. I am scared I can barely remember what has transpired. As my mother stands and looks at me square in the eyes, the nurse comes and says with a grin on her radiant face “Hello, Mr. Howard. How are you feeling?” I attempt to sit up, but my body is aching. My dad hurries over to help, but it was no use the pain was overbearing. I began to weep and apologize. My dad with a stern look on his face says, “Andra, you are fine now just relax”. How could I relax? I am stuck in this room with no memory of what happened.
Oh my God! TJ!“ It was just my mom.She was crying and calling my name again and again.I was so embarrassed and disappointed of my self.I had let her down. After, two of the EMT guys put us on an ambulance. Finally,we made our way to the hospital. My friend john and me were sent in palo alto medical center. It took us about fifteen minute to get there. My friend john was alright. He had a couple of stitches in his head and his arm. He got relieved after a couple of tests but, I was severely injured. I was lying on a hospital bed and thinking what I would have done in the past. Cause this terrible accident happened to me. I was sent to el camino hospital, where I went to the operation theater for my hipbones surgery.The doctor told me after surgery that my hipbones was fractured the reason they had to put a plate in hipbones to stay together.Although, my left arm was also fractured the reason I could not feel my arm. After surgery, they took me to the other room and gave me a couple of injections. Momentarily, I went to sleep. I woke up in the next day and thinking hopefully it was just a dream,but it’s not. I opened my eyes and saw a couple of relative looking me like a stranger. My dad came over my bed and gave me a hug and I literally started crying after thinking about the accident. I could not believe after a massive car accident I was still alive. Doctors kept in hospital couple of
As usual I woke up to the sound of my father pounding on my bedroom door, hollering, “Get up! Get on your feet! You’re burning daylight!” I met my brother in the hallway, and we took our time making it down the stairs, still waking up from last night’s sleep. As we made our way to the kitchen, I thought about what to have for breakfast: fried eggs, pancakes, an omelet, or maybe just some cereal. I started to get hungry. As usual, mom and dad were waiting in the kitchen. Mom was ready to cook whatever we could all agree on, and dad was sitting at the table watching the news. The conversation went as usual, “Good morning.” “How are you today?”
The reckless driver hit us straight on, then “Bang!” a loud noise resonated through the air, and abruptly my body flew out and hit the pavement of the road. Everything around me was simply a white haze for a few seconds after the impact. My body felt extremely heavy and the sharp pain throbbed throughout my face and body. Lying there on the rough asphalt, I faintly heard my mom and Carrie call out to me, “Sydney! Sydney! Are you okay? Answer me! Sydney!” I wanted I speak up and answer them, nonetheless, it was useless, my voice just wouldn’t make a sound. The desperation in Carrie’s and my mom’s voices reverberated to me across from where I was lying. My mom frantically ran up to my side and hugged me tightly in her arms. Blood was squirting out of her pinky, where the top of her finger had been severed. The places where my mom’s tears fell, stung my wounds, nevertheless, it was nothing compared to each little movements that caused the pains to electrify through my body severely. Every second was hell, the pain was just utterly agonizing and tormenting. Whether it was due to the pain or the exhaustion my body suffered, my mind slowly drifted off and I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. As my eyes gradually closed, the blazing siren seemed to have grown louder little by