This was the last time I spoke to her; just over a year before her death. But little did I know it was the last time I’d ever see her alive. My great grandmother Iline Sullivan was a beautiful Norwegian woman with eyes so beautiful; I swear I saw the blue color swirling about. She was a woman with a softer voice compared to others and she spoke very tenderly. That’s how I remember her beautiful, strong and a prideful woman who dealt with the loss of 2 children, and her husband. About a year before I last saw her, I would be a regular visitor to her little nursing home in the town of Fort Dodge, Iowa. We would sit there in her room; her sitting in her rocking chair in the corner, and my Grandma and I in front of her on the bed or on a stool; talking about life, school, work, but my ultimate favorite …show more content…
I felt so guilty about the fact that I hadn’t seen her in over a year. I ran into my room and slammed my door; the crying never seemed to stop, id stop for a split second, and the tears would flow like they were on autopilot. I hated myself for making up stupid excuses; ‘I have homework’- I really didn’t, I would just sit at home and watch Hannah Montana or SpongeBob; ‘I don’t feel so hot’- another excuse just to stay home and play on my DS or to watch computer videos. With me it was always excuses, excuses, and more excuses, and I soon came to regret them. Eventually, her funeral came and I felt so terrible being there, I felt as if I didn’t belong, I felt so guilty for what I did. It was a dark and gloomy day; sun gone as if it was in an eclipse, and It was a very cold day for the middle of June. We walk into the funeral home and pay our respects. As I got up to her casket, and seeing her in there seemed unreal; I had just saw her yesterday it seemed like, and now she’s gone and ill never hear her voice again. As I approached I did the cross across my body and knelt down on one
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
When I walked inside the front door something didn’t seem right. The feeling of sorrow overwhelmed the house. It was so thick I could literally feel it in the air. Everyone was motionless. They were sulking;I was befuddled. The most energetic people in the world, doing absolutely nothing. I repeatedly asked them what was wrong. After an hour or so, my dad pulled me aside. He said that my Aunt Feli had passed away last night. My mind went for a loop, I was so confused. I thought that he was joking, so I replied “You’re lying, don’t mess with me like that.” and punched his shoulder softly while I chuckled. My dad quickly started tearing up and said, “There...
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.
A moment in time that I hold close to myself is the funeral of my grandmother. It occurred a couple of weeks ago on the Friday of the blood drive. The funeral itself was well done and the homily offered by the priest enlightened us with hope and truth. But when the anti-climatic end of the funeral came my family members and relatives were somberly shedding tears. A sense of disapproval began creeping into my mind. I was completely shocked that I did not feel any sense of sadness or remorse. I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to mourn, but there was no source of grief for me to mourn. My grandma had lived a great life and left her imprint on the world. After further contemplation, I realized why I felt the way I felt. My grandmother still
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 looked at myself in the mirror. I noticed the lines of my face and the curve of my neck. I looked down at my hands remembering the moment I first realized that they looked like hers. Long, thin, delicate hands perfect for playing the piano or braiding cornrows. All my life I had not noticed until the day I sat at her bedside holding her hand in mine. She had told me that she was not afraid to die. We sat in silence for a long time, sometimes sharing a stare and a smile. I don't know how long I sat there, looking at her, realizing for the first time who I looked so much like. As I stood in front of the mirror, I remembered that day as I prepared for her funeral. Sarah Smith, my grandmother's going home day. My father asked me to do her eulogy. I had thought and thought of what to say. The words didn't come until the morning of her funeral. That morning I went to the lake where me, my brothers, and my sister would go swimming in the summer on weekend visits to my grandmother's. As I soaked in the sun and watched its rays dance on the waters a memory came.
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.
Having someone in your life that you consider special is a wondering feeling. And when this person has played so many different roles throughout my life it’s a magnificent feeling for her to feel so accomplished and so admired. When I think back to everything I’ve done I can’t look over the fact that the reason I did it is because she made me the fantastic person I am. I’m glad she passed all the things on to me and I hope I can do the same to next generations. The traditions that we have created are known throughout my entire family and I’m glad that we were both a part of them. She is an extraordinary person and I look forward to all the great memories I still have left with her to create. My Grandma is with out a doubt the most influential person in my life and I’m so grateful for her presence.
I wasn't sure what to do, or what to say. I had never gotten to say goodbye because he died very unexpectedly, but it felt wrong to say goodbye. Goodbye is what you say when you leave, but I'd always said it to him with the full intention of seeing him again later on. So instead I just looked at him. His fingernails were still dirty even after they'd been cleaned- a permanent mark of his living life. We spoke a silent conversation, and I had a moment of understanding. Goodbye didn't feel quite right because I had wanted to say it with the mindset that he was gone forever. I realized in that moment that he would never really leave. He would continue to watch over me, guide me, and protect me, just like he had in
Many had said of her that she did too much for us, her children. It was said that perhaps she loved us too much. But, I ask of you, just how can you do too much for your children and even more, how can you love them too much? What people seemed to forget was the circumstances surrounding our life at home when we were coming up. She had to be both mother and father to us. Yes, we had a father there, in body. It was mama who did for us, it was mama who watched out for us, it was mama who calmed our fears. It was mama who said that one day things would get better for us, that the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't an oncoming train. She was right.
Once the crying commenced, my mother called me, telling me that my last grandma had gone into the hospital. She collapsed in her apartment and was rushed to the emergency center. I had no idea what to do. I felt like God was just condemning me and attacking me for some reason. I went into this deep depression and I didn’t want anyone to talk to me, if they did, I would simply start crying.
What does phenomenal mean to you? One dictionary states phenomenal means very remarkable. My great grandmother was a very sophisticated and remarkable woman. Phenomenal should have been her first name, because that she was. My great grandmother was a rare breed; many do not come like that anymore. Memories of my great grandmother take me to a happy place, and hold a special place in my heart.
There had been a funeral arranged for me even though there was no body yet to bury. Flowers, friends dressed in black, a church service, the whole works as they say, had been done up for me. My family mourned over the loss of their son, brother, nephew, and grandson. People said prayers, friends reminisced and toasted in my name, girls I had briefly dated carried on as if my death was a bigger deal to them than it actually was.
Two years and four months ago I died. A terrible condition struck me, and I was unable to do anything about it. In a matter of less than a year, it crushed down all of my hopes and dreams. This condition was the death of my mother. Even today, when I talk about it, I burst into tears because I feel as though it was yesterday. I desperately tried to forget, and that meant living in denial about what had happened. I never wanted to speak about it whenever anyone would ask me how I felt. To lose my Mom meant losing my life. I felt I died with her. Many times I wished I had given up, but I knew it would break the promise we made years before she passed away. Therefore, I came back from the dead determined and more spirited than before.
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.