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While I was growing up I knew death was something that was going to eventually happen and sadly it happened sooner than I expected. I believed in death and got the idea of the feeling. Through the ages of six to fifteen I have only been to three funerals but I was not a family member, which means it did not affect me in anyway. I would feel sorry for the family but that was the closest to me feeling sad. 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
"Deedee get up it 's time for school," my mom always said. Up until fifth grade that was all I could remember hearing. Every morning before school, I can remember being so anxious and excited about going to school, school is where I shined. I was not like everyone else, I did not play sports and I could not sing or dance. However, for a long time school is where I showed off my talents.
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.
For most people, becoming a parent is one of the greatest moments in their lives. I never understood the true meaning of love until I became a father. Little did I know; I would also learn the tragedy of loss.
I have been very fortunate to have known my maternal and paternal grandparents and great-grandparents. We enjoy a close family and always have. Sadly, my first experience with a close death was when my paternal grandma died at the age of sixty-four of colon cancer. I was in the ninth grade when she died and hers’ was the first wake and funeral I had experienced. I remember having nightmares for weeks after the funeral. As I grew older, I lost my
"Then, just like that, she was gone. I couldn’t hold back the tears, and I don’t think my sunglasses hid them well. I’ve gotten used to my emotions and I only let it all out when they can’t be stifled, so you know this wasn’t a sigh-I’m-gonna-miss-her moment. The sunshine and warm breeze of Friday afternoon was frustrating; dreary, cold, typical-March days are fitting, appropriate for feeling this way, and how nice it was outside was a slap in the face. I later recalled how just a year prior I reversed the phrase A sunny day is no match for a cloudy disposition on a day like this one. I thought I was okay with everything, so what was it that hurt me? She left so easily; she never thinks about how lucky she is to still see me, not because she doesn’t deserve to, but the fact that I am still here for her to see. If she knew what I’m going to tell you…well, speculation is useless.
My first experience with death occurred when I was around the age of 6. My grandfather on my dad’s side had been diagnosed with lung cancer. I did not know him, he was in India and I had only seen him through pictures my mom had shown me. At that time, I felt nothing, how could I be upset over someone I barely knew? I remember my parents sitting at the table talking about his deteriorating condition. My dad decided to visit India for a month to be with him during his last days. I felt angry, very angry. My dad would be leaving me for a whole month because of that old guy? I mean he brought the lung cancer upon himself maybe he shouldn’t have smoked cigarettes right?
As a University student now looking back on the past, all the trials and hardships, my grandmother passing was not all dreadful. In fact, this dreadful event actually opened up my eyes for me to reach my highest peak. It has taught me to be strong and proactive. In addition, it taught me that I should get all I can while I am alive and do not take anything, such as education, for granted.
The unfortunate event of death in my family brought me to the campus of Rice University. In eighth grade, my uncle, who lived in Houston, passed away in March 2014. While in town for the memorial service, my parents decided to show my older sister and me around the city and visit Rice, since it was an academically challenging school. Just stepping on campus captivated me. It was bright, open, and welcoming.
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.
The earliest death I can remember was the death of my mother’s uncle. I was about ten years old and what I remember most about it was that my mother (who drove us to school every morning) said a prayer for starting the car. This was rare because we are not a religious family at all but on that day she prayed and I remember being very sad that she was sad. I don’t remember the visitation, the funeral, or anything of that nature but I just remember how sad my mother was.
Parents, your only caretakers are the ones who support only you and your brothers and sisters. The ones who are there for you, feed you, and help with your homework. Some care, some do not care about you. Luckily, I had some that cared so much to me. You have so much fun with your family you just don’t feel like stopping.
The amulet slipped from my fingertips shattering as it hit the ground. I was caught. His blue eyes watched as my life flashed before my eyes. At that moment I knew this was going to be the last time I saw my mothers tomb. My mom was gone.
I would think that nobody really knows how they would cope with the death of someone you were really close to until it actually happens to them. Losing a loved one is like having your heart ripped out from your chest. Many people wonder and imagine what we would do when someone we love passes away. I never thought of death as something hurtful, until my grandmas death. I do not think anyone really thinks about tragedy until they are actually faced with the life changing news when it occurs. It amazes me how we all take life for granted.
In my life time, I have experienced many deaths. I have never had anyone that was very close to me die, but I have shed tears over many deaths that I knew traumatically impacted the people that I love. The first death that influenced me was the death of my grandfather. My grandfather passed away when I was very young, so I never really got the chance to know him. My papaw Tom was my mothers dad, and she was very upset after his passing. Seeing my mom get upset caused me to be sad. The second death that influenced my life was the death of my great grandmother. My great grandmother was a very healthy women her whole life. When she was ninety three she had
I remember it as it were yesterday, the morning of October 31 1986, I heard my dad’s voice early in the morning; “Mike, get up! Your grandpa died!”