“Hey Mom, you think Nanny is in heaven right now?” my siblings said, followed by laughter. I just didn’t get it, how could they joke about such an awful thing, I thought. My Nanny, or Grandma, was deceased, and we were on the dreadful drive to the funeral. But once my mom pulled into the location of the funeral, it was no joking matter. The eight of us trudged into the building, and I saw a lot of familiar faces: the Seltzer's, my neighbors, Mrs. Tully, my mom’s friend, and family members from my mom’s side. Though the thing that stood out the most was the vast, brown coffin in the the front of the room. Some of us shuffled up to the coffin to see my grandmother. It was eerie seeing my grandmother lifeless, I thought. Not in her house wheeling around in a chair while cooking in the kitchen, not sitting outside her house with me talking about the rabbit that always sat on her yard in the evening. I felt a wave of heartache pass through me, and I could tell that my mom was on the verge of crying. Despite her passing, I thought of all of the great memories that my grandma and I had. I could recall one of the best …show more content…
It was a blur to me, and I couldn’t bear to watch all of these people I love crying as people spoke about my departed grandmother. The inside ceremony was finally over, but the worst was yet to come. We had to go to the graveyard where my Nanny would be buried. There we were, standing in front of the huge gap in the ground, fearing for what would come next. I stood next to my mom, who wore sunglasses, but by the shaking of her shoulders I knew she was sobbing. Seeing my mom being so upset was heartbreaking, so I started to cry too. My aunt came over to comfort me and wrapped her arms around me, which made me cry even harder. The rest was a blur, my grandmother being buried and placing flowers at her grave. By then, we had all pulled ourselves together and it was time to
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.
Over the next few days, we took it easy. I went back to work. My mom was getting worse as each day went on with a few good days in between, of course. We ended up moving my niece Lexi’s birthday up a few days because we wanted to make sure my mom would be there for it. She, my mom, couldn’t talk as well anymore, but she made the effort to sing for her granddaughter. The day before my niece’s actual birthday, my mom passed away. Her wish had come true, too. She had wanted my dad to be the only one in the room when she went.
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.
As we pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home, I felt the knot in my stomach tighten. Just a week ago, my ex-husband Rick, had brought our children back from a fun-filled vacation. They had spent two weeks exploring Tennessee, visiting amusement parks, and flying over the Smokey Mountains. He had brought them back to Ohio, dropped them off at my new house, and had asked to see the dog that my daughter adopted at the humane society. I had taken him to see the dog, she seemed uncomfortable with his presence and growled. Still he had lingered, talking about their trip and his plans for the next time he saw them. The conversation and pleasantries were hard for me to force. Years of living with someone who was manipulative and had abused
I'm embarrassed to say my first thought was that of relief when my mother called to say that he was dead. It had been five long years and I was completely exhausted trying to deal with him. Finally, it was over. In the last few weeks, his health had worsened, so I had called the nursing home that Sunday morning and asked the supervisor if I should drive the 130 miles to see him. She said he wasn't doing very well, but that he seemed to have nine lives; one minute he was at death's door, and the next he was sitting in the recreation room having another cigarette. It's a good thing I didn't make the trip, because less than an hour later, my mom called to say it was over.
I have never been an emotional person and I don’t do funerals. I had never been to one before until G.G. died. G.G. was my Great Grandma Hazel Bertsch. She was such a special person and lived for her family. She was full of grace and love. Her hands were wrinkled and soft . They showed her age and hard working spirit. She had tiny little eyes that looked at you with a sparkle in the dark pupils. Hazel was a beautiful old woman. She passed away on a cold January day like the earth seemed sad to see her go.
It was a Friday, December 22nd, 2017. Both my aunt and my mom were driving home, in separate cars. They worked at the same place, after work one of them would call each other everyday and they would talk while they drove home. My mother said “Me, my mom, and my sister used to have each other, there was no dad in the picture, and now it’s just me” I teared up when she said that, that is such a sad thing to hear your mother say.
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.
I believe everything happens for a reason and people have to find the good in the bad. When my great-grandmother died it was really hard on my family. She was a very important woman to us all. She was very kind and sweet and would help whoever she could. When she died it traumatized my family a bit. She was very special to us, but we pulled through it, and we knew she wouldn’t be suffering anymore.
We really thought we were going to lose our grandmother that day. Me and my big brother was over our grandmother’s house, then I was sleep and my brother was watching T.V. while he saw our grandmother fall and have a stroke. When my brother saw our grandmother fall He woke me up. Then, I started crying because I was only 6 years old I didn’t know what to do.
I wasn’t always a mummy. Over 10,000 years ago I was a fine embalmer. I worked on preserving the dead body’s day and night, night and day. It seemed like all that I ever saw were the dead.
If I were to find myself to be dying suddenly, and request a living funeral, I would probably want it to affirm myself before dying. Dying is likely a lonely experience because only you know the feeling of inevitable dread; the sinking feeling of knowing your life is slipping away. It is just nice to know that people love you, and will miss you when you’re gone; regardless of whether someone is dying or not, you should let them know that you love them, but it’s not as common to do, in our society. At the “funeral”, I wouldn’t want it to be depressive or glum, I would want it to be fun like a party, I would have extravagant foods and circus performers, (who cares if I can’t afford them, I’ll be dead!) and hypothetically midgets to perform rituals
I went to sleep by myself out of that whole house everyone was up all night in the living room of her house. When I woke up I put my depressing black dress on and we left for her burial memorial.it was my first time at a funeral. Then it hit me if she is gone then I can’t see her ever again, well until I pass away. That is when I started to cry I realized that the last time my brother got to see her was when he was crying all I knew off at that moment was sadness. I couldn’t breathe either from me sobbing so much.
I woke up from the passed memories beside my mom’s grave, thinking about I was going to say, while telling the story to my mom as I shred tear on to her tomb.
Something that I really struggled with was the passing of my Grandmother. She was a strong woman and an inspiration to everybody in my family. I think that I struggled with it because she was a great human being, I kind of looked up to her a bit, and of course she was part of my family. I think that along with her passing, I struggled with the fact that she died when I thought that she did nothing wrong in her entire life and did not deserve to die. Mainly the fact that she was a really good person and she just died like that.