My Grandma's Death: My Great Grandfather Death

My great grandfather death was the earliest loss experience I can remember. He was put on hospice for a few months and died from prostate cancer on August 10, 2007 in the living room of my basement. I was eleven years old when he passed away and recall standing beside his bed when he took his last breath. Given that we had him in the house three months before he passed away, I not only remember him dying, but also remember witnessing his body slowly shutting down as the days passed by. My grandmother and her sisters would change him everyday, give him water with a dropper and talk to him for hours on end. We knew his last day was approaching quickly and decided to be proactive and begin the funeral arrangements. My mother and I were at the flower shop ordering the flowers when we received a phone call from my grandmother. I answered the phone and could hear her holding back the tears as she informed us that he was starting to slip away. We rushed back to the house and I ran straight to his bed where he laid, holding on to every breath. I

I was 15 years old when she committed suicide; she was sixteen at the time. She was a straight A student, big sister, and a hard working teenager; she never failed to brighten up my day with her smile. I was with my uncle when we received a call from my aunt that Aliyah was at the hospital. We found out that she had jumped off the 5th floor of a parking garage by her high school near downtown Chicago. By the time we arrived to the hospital she had passed away in the ER. I remember seeing my aunt on her knees in the waiting room yelling, “why? What did I do wrong sweet girl?” I had no idea how to approach my aunt or what I could say to show my support. I sat in a chair and thought about what might have been going through her head when she was standing on the ledge. I reflected on what I would have to feel in order to have the courage to