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Emotion theory and grief
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“What’s wrong, Colton? Had it been another grueling day at work?” My wife had affirmed by my wistful facial expression, as I walked through the door. She sat me down and started gently clenching her soft hands on my tense shoulders, messaging out my utmost distress. It had become a ritual; returning home from the department in terror, after envisioning the Flames. The flames, I had thought to myself. It had not simply been those that had destroyed the buildings, but also, those I saw embodied within the victim’s eyes. I had been trained to put out those of the buildings, however, the fear and panic that had been built up for them, from witnessing all that they loved and held dear disappearing in flames, never to be put out, creates an emotional scar threshed into their soul, displayed through their eyes. Nobody had ever been quite the same, something within, had changed them. Although work was tough, I simply loved to help others, even from a young age and I had concluded that an employment that benefits my friendly nature would make me feel fulfilled and accomplished. My wife had stopped messaging and began to caress me, while playing with my thick and tousled dark hair. “Is there anything you’d like to share with me?” she said. She had always been there for me, supporting me, and I love her with all my heart. What had started from a simple physical attraction, had developed and grew into a mutual bond, our marriage commitment of five years demonstrating our true connection. It’s her beautiful soul, I had concluded. She is genuine and her humbleness and attentiveness are distinct, alluring qualities that lead me into appreciating her more and more. There are so many memories to be told; shared with her, nonetheless I couldn’t ...
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Now restless in my bed, I decide to visit the women in the hospital. I rush over, and I ask the attendant for her room number. She told me “Room 221 on the second floor.” I find her room and there she lay, motionless with diverse machines hooked up to her, including the heart monitor, which continuously beeps. “I’m sorry. This is my entire fault.” I tell her. There was a long pause. Again, I repeat “I’m sorry.” Faintly, I hear her say “We all make mistakes, what’s important, is that we did our best. I appreciate all the efforts you made to save my baby, but now, my time is approaching to join her at the gates.” “Please don’t leave us.” I cry. She chuckles and says “Angels won’t be new to me in heaven, I’ve already met one. Thank you for everything.” And the heart monitor lets out a loud and distinct beep displaying a straight line on the screen. She passed away.
It appears that her husband may be on an oxygen machine. “Working away in its lung-like voice” (Lines 4-5). The machine produces the oxygen that keeps him alive. The oxygen continues to nourish the body and the soul inside of it. The machine doesn’t give out pure oxygen, it is a mixture so it won’t overwhelm him. The love between the woman attending the fire and her pained man in the room above attached to the oxygen machine is so close that the love between them is in the woman’s mind
Bullets whizzed by and, the anguished cries wounded men echoed across the battlefield, but Clara Barton pushed through the sea of bodies; determined to get to the wounded. Even though many might know her from her nickname “Angel of the Battlefield” or as the founder of the American Red Cross, but she started as just a very stubborn, patriotic, young woman who was determined to help. Even in a time of despair. She brought hope to soldiers and their families, both on and off the battlefield.
I rushed out of the bedroom confused. I began to realize what was going on. I ran to where I last saw her and she was not there. Never before I felt my heart sank. My eyes filled with tears. I dropped to my knees and felt the cold white tile she last swept and mopped for my family. I look up and around seeing picture frames of of her kids, grandchildren, and great grandchildren smiling. I turn my head to the right and see the that little statue of the Virgin Mary, the last gift we gave her. I began to cry and walked to my mother hugging her. My father walked dreadfully inside the house. He had rushed my great grandmother to the hospital but time has not on his side. She had a bad heart and was not taking her medication. Later that morning, many people I have never seen before came by to pray. I wandered why this had to happen to her. So much grief and sadness came upon
devil, and those angels are known as "demons", as is Satan himself. Satan had been an angel, but decided to do his own thing. Angels can see all aspects of a situation instantly, since they are so very wise.
One of the more romantic elements of American folklore has been the criss-crossing rail system of this country – steel rails carrying Americans to new territories across desert and mountain, through wheat fields and over great rivers. Carl Sandburg has flavored the mighty steam engine in elegant prose and Arlo Guthrie has made the roundhouse a sturdy emblem of America’s commerce.
Martín Espada embodies the feeling of a great come back in his poem "Imagine the Angels of Bread". He tells of people who have faced oppression finally being equal in the eyes of their oppressor. Espada refers to the bible in his title by mentioning the Angels of Bread which can also be called manna (bread of angels). "So may every humiliated mouth, teeth like desecrated headstones, fill with the angels of bread." Espada foretells of the happy ending that most people in oppressed situations will never experience during their lifetime.
The term angel derives from a Greek translation of the Hebrew word mal'akh, which first meant "Shadow side of God," and now means messenger (Jeremiah 59). Angels as an article of faith have become an unshakeable part of our society. One in every ten popular songs involves angels in some way (Freeman 2). They appear in paintings and in museums as sculptures. Our culture is filled with angels that appear on clothing, cards, or as souvenirs, and jewelry. It would be reasonable to assume that one might find the most information about angels in the Christian bible. However , the bible only mentions three angels by name and actually contains very little information about these beings. Almost all of the information we have about angelic attributes comes from the three great Chronicles of Enoch. In these chronicles Enoch describes his journey to the ten Heavens where he saw angels in heaven's penal and punishment area, punishing sinners. His view was that hell existed in small pockets that were distributed throughout heaven. This view was not consistent with the later Church that believed heaven and hell were two separate places. Because of this, St. Jerome declared these texts apocryphal (Godwin 9). However, a lot of material from these chronicles appears in the New Testament. Though much of what we know currently about what angels are and what they do is based on misconception and myth, the concern of this paper is with the genus Angelus Occidentalis. This is the term used to describe a number of angelic species and sub-species in Judaism, Islam, and Christianity (Godwin 7). The term angel describes not only the benevolent forces of heaven but also the malevolent forces of hell. When Lucifer fell from ...
The concept of angels on earth is commonly believed in and often relates to the topics of life and death, so much so that if one were to appear there would be constant hopes of miracles being performed. The short story “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez says a great deal about the way humans behave react to those who are weak, dependent, or different. The old man with wings signifies how the people tend to create information out of nowhere when it is not given immediately. The circumstances the old man with enormous wings finds himself in show a unique, but vaguely relatable, condition that leads him to become a significant part of society and then witness a withdrawal of attention.
Angels are defined as a typically benevolent celestial being that acts as an intermediary between heaven and earth and one who manifests goodness, purity, and selflessness (Angels). They are seen as good and helpful beings and have been known for giving human beings messages or signs from God. They have many virtuous characteristics to them and components that make them so interesting. These components include their origin, their reputation of always being good, their overall appearance, the several main and influential angels, and the rankings of different angels.
When Everyman was admitted to the hospital as a child for a routine hernia surgery, he didn't believe that anything would go wrong. While he was asleep the night before his surgery, he was woken up by the sound of doctors and nurses at the bed next to him. When he woke up on the morning of his surgery, the little boy was no longer in his bed next to him. “In that moment of terror when they lowered the ether mask over his face as if to smother him, he could have sworn that the surgeon, whoever he was, had whispered, 'Now I'm going to turn you into a girl.'” (Roth 29). His first thoughts were that the doctors had killed the little boy and were going to give him a similarly unpleasant fate. This was the first glimpse of death he had had in his life thus far and it terrified him. Many years later, when he was in his fifties and needed to have s...
“Get the doc now!” Mother shrieked. Bump, crash, bang, the stretcher carried my lifeless body down a populous hall. “Get and I-V now! Heart beats are slowing, we may need resuscitation, get me the shocks now!” “Oh my lord, no please don’t take my boy lord! Not now…” My mom snuffled. *Whimpers and cries”
With clammy hands and a racing heart, I numbly walk to my car in the parking lot. I’ve just left my regular doctor’s office with possibly the worst news I could have eve received. The doctor’s words just keep rattling around in my brain as I attempt to control my emotions and not break down in the middle of the parking lot. Quickly climbing into the seat of my vehicle and closing the door, the flood gates finally open. The tears keep coming, and I can’t make them stop.
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...
The version of childbirth that we’re used to is propagated by television and movies. A woman, huge with child, is rushed to the hospital when her water breaks. She is ushered into a delivery room and her husband hovers helplessly as nurses hook her up to IVs and monitors. The woman writhes in pain and demands relief from the painful contractions. Narcotic drugs are administered through her IV to dull the pain, or an epidural is inserted into the woman’s spine so that she cannot feel anything below her waist. When the baby is ready to be born, the doctor arrives dressed in surgical garb. The husband, nurses and doctor become a cheerleading squad, urging the woman to, “Push!” Moments later, a pink, screaming newborn is lifted up for the world to see. Variations on this theme include the cesarean section, where the woman is wheeled to the operating room where her doctors remove the baby through an incision in her abdomen.
It was a dreadful afternoon, big droplets of rain fell directly on my face and clothes. I tasted the droplets that mixed with my tears, the tears I cried after the incident. The pain in my foot was excruciating. It caused me to make a big decision of whether I should visit you or not. I decided I would. I limped towards my bright, blue car where my bony, body collapsed onto the seat. I started the engine up but at the same time being cautious of my bleeding foot. I then drove to the destination where I was bound to meet you. I was bound to meet you after three years of counselling from my last appearance with you. I guess all I can remember is the scarring....