Death a familiar friend, who seemed to always show up when I least expect it. Somehow when he appeared and blindsided me, I should have known. Things never can stay that good for long. My grandmother, taken by death to once again be reunited with her soul mate after years of morning. With this came the harsh effects of the diagnosis, the hospital visits at all hours, medication, death, and home. The joys of having a loving, caring, and sweet grandmother, all stolen from me by cancer. The day of her diagnosis and the doctors giving her a time expectancy. Sitting in the room, Dr. Vargas mumbled, “Lucila Toro, I’m sorry to inform you have stage two pancreatic cancer.” As a child, I was trying to grasp this information of how all my beliefs in God could fail me, death I had hoped my …show more content…
Her immobilization started rapidly declining, deteriorating her health, we checked her into the hospital where she got continuous round the clock care. As family came to say their final goodbyes before death came to take her, she held on for as long as possible till everyone left and it was just immediate family. Doctor whispered, “Kikki, you don’t look to good. Why don’t you go home to rest.” Later received a call already knowing that the cancer defeated her and my life would never feel and be the same, at almost 3am she passed. I entered the room and could not bear the fact that my greatest role model is no longer with me, sitting for hours crying sent home again. The ride home had been the most excruciating car ride of my life. Grasping this all new information, coping with grief and guilt had been extremely grueling. As my stepfather brought my sister and I home, nothing was to be said, no words were leaving my mouth.Our different home, we all limped our ways to our beds, and cried ourselves to sleep with nothing but silence remaining. Death had surprised me once
Never having enjoyed, to any considerable extent, her soothing presence, her tender and watchful care, I received the tidings of [my mother’s] death with much the same emotions I should have probably felt at the death of a stranger.
It was a true cancer horror story but she had stayed strong through everything and had a beautiful baby boy. After she gave birth, we went to see her and give her the check. We traveled to downtown Wilmington and visited with her new born baby, Gabe, and her husband. As we prepared to leave, we handed her the check from all of our fundraising for her. She took one look at the check in hand and bursted into tears.To her, the $1,000 check we handed her was so much more than a significant amount of money. It was a slight weight lifted off her shoulders, an emphasis on the fact that she was not in this alone, before nor
One fateful day at the end of June in 1998 when I was spending some time at home; my mother came to me with the bad news: my parent's best friend, Tommy, had been diagnosed with brain cancer. He had been sick for some time and we all had anxiously been awaiting a prognosis. But none of us were ready for the bumpy roads that lay ahead: testing, surgery, chemotherapy, nausea, headaches, and fatigue. Even loud music would induce vomiting. He just felt all around lousy.
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
This is crazy. Why am I afraid? I’m acting as if this is my first funeral. Funerals have become a given, especially with a life like mine, the deaths of my father, my uncle and not my biological mother, you would think I could be somewhat used to them by now. Now I know what you’re thinking, death is all a part of life. But the amount of death that I’ve experienced in my life would make anyone cower away from the thought. This funeral is nothing compared to those unhappy events.
I can’t begin to express how hard it is for me to stand here before you and give my last respects to my loving mother - name here. From the biography that was handed out you can recall that during the her early years in the united states she studied and worked in New York where she met and married my dad, the love of her life. They spent the rest of their days loyal and in love with one another. Unfortunately, one day my father passed away with cancer at a young age. My dad was the one who suffered the most, but my mom suffered right along with him. She felt powerless, and for my mom- powerlessness turned in to guilt and grief, a painful distress she lived with on a daily basis for the next six years. When he died part of her died! Life for her was never the same again. I was not able to completely understand her loss- until now…
She left her house with a radiant smile and that same smile continued as I watched her open the door to the car with my father firmly entrenched in the driver's seat. They were on their way to buy a tire for her car which so happened to be three miles from our home. Time crawled along at snails pace and eventually my brothers and myself wondered where my father and godmother were. Within an instant my mother screamed for me and I ran to her as if my life depended on it. Instead my life was not in the balance it was my godmother who had lost hers. Instantly shattered and numb I was afraid to ask the next question but my mother eased my ...
It was a chilly morning in August and my phone kept buzzing in my pocket with news I wish I could change. I was sitting in the parking lot with one of my friends, talking, before we had to go to work. I grabbed my phone to figure out why it was going crazy. It was my mother: “Terrie is not doing very well; I wanted you to know. I am sorry; She’s nearing the end.” I broke down into tears while my friend witnessed it.
At the age of sixteen I experienced the horrible feeling of losing a loved one. On October 5, 2015 my grandma decided she wanted to leave Houston, Texas and move with us to Brownsville, Texas. During the month she was with me, we would do everything together. In the mornings I would wake up and make her coffee and I would be there with her
Anne (my mother) died at 2:30 am on Monday, July 31, 2017. She would have turned 98 on 9/11/17.
I still remember that day mom. The day that you died. It was August 29, 2010, around 10 PM. The sky was plastered with clouds, it was pouring and the sky was like a night club. Flashing lights everywhere and the sound of thunder resonated throughout the surrounding area. During this time, my mom and I were on our way back from the police station after I shoplifted at a nearby convenience store. Luckily they let me off with a warning since my mom had my back and since I was still a juvenile. Just because they let me off with a warning, didn't mean that I was scot-free from my mom's scolding. From the police station all the way to the car, all I could hear was my mom's constant nagging about how I shouldn't shoplift and how I won't be let off the hook so easily when I'm 18 or older.
My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.
She began to suffer from hair and weight loss as well as the color change of her skin. My mind began to intersect with thoughts of her dying from cancer. I decided negativity would no longer control my thoughts; I had a grandmother who needed me to be strong and think positive about her condition, regardless of the situation and her physical changes. During the time of my grandmother chemotherapy treatments, I would miss school to attend her appointments. As a sophomore in high school, I could only miss a small amount of days before any negative effects displayed toward my grades. Therefore, I would miss school every Tuesday and Thursday for the next four months of my first semester of tenth grade. I didn’t mind because my grandmother meant the world to me and I would have done it a thousand times, if I was given the
My Granny Jo is tall and frail with an amazing gentle personality she could win anyone over and you cannot stay mad at her for any longer than two minutes as her heart is a pot of gold. My Granny Jo has a smile that would light up the world. It was difficult so see my Granny so ill lying in a hospital bed without her little pink cheeks with her blusher missing although my Granny still looked like princess. There was a whole lot more heartbreaking news that struck me and my Family, when my Granny had surgery they removed one of her lungs during that had hoped that they had caught it all sadly this was a false prediction. Life at this time was so cruel cancer had spread so fast into my Granny’s other lung.
My heart was simply ripped apart. I could not believe it at first, but I knew I had to. After all these wonderful years and enthralling moments, I finally have to face God's greatest challenge. My mind wasn't as messy as before anymore and I couldn't even think of what to think. It seemed as if I had nothing to worry about, nothing to do, nothing to say. I was trapped inside this room waiting for the Grim Reaper to reap my innocent soul.