A Personal Narrative Essay : Losing Someone Hurts

I have lost my grandpa and have not gotten over the idea of it. When I was in the sixth grade, my grandfather was very sick; he could barely walk. While my grandmother and some other family members went uptown for some household things, food, and medication, I was told to take care of him. Yet, I wanted to play with my friends outside. He told me to go ahead and play, but for some reason I just got mad and slammed the door and left. Around nighttime, I seen an ambulance pull up to my grandparents’ house.

Nineteen years ago, my family experienced the most earth-shattering moment anyone could imagine, the death of a child. Growing up, I have always seen boy’s picture that hangs above our mantle. Every January, we have family and friends bombard us with phone calls, trying to take my family’s minds off of the tragedy, but until recently, I never understood exactly why. At fourteen, I finally gained the nerve to ask about the boy whose picture hung above the mantle, so my teary-eyed mother sat me down and told me about the death of my big brother.

To me the writer is trying to say, he finds it hard to put into words the grief he feels. In his writing he is trying to explain the feeling by using explicit words. Like he says coarsest clothing that are against the cold that to me shows he is really hurt. He is sad about the way he feels but this is the worst way to grieve, some people grieve in different ways. The bad part about grief is there is no time limit on how long it will last. I still grieve over the loss of my family member’s every day. My weekend I lost a great uncle and the fact that he stayed upstairs to me makes it harder. Like Alfred said when he talks about narcotics sometimes you just want to numb the pain and feel nothing because it hurts so bad, but once that narcotic

Experiencing loss is hopeless. I personally felt loss on the morning of February 4, 2010, when my father died from pancreatic cancer. After many years of surgeries, doctor appointments, chemotherapy, and fighting, the villains inside his body had ultimately won the battle. Entering through the tall glass doors of the hospital, I could see my mother walking down the hallway towards me. Although she tried to force a calming smile, her anxious expression and red puffy eyes filled me with panic. As she kneeled down to greet me with a hug, my brother immediately left my side to go to the ICU where my dad was being cared for. When I looked back at my mother, she began to smile through tears and guided me towards a gloomy room with numerous televisions and chairs. I climbed up onto one of the blue plastic cushions as my mother waited to tell me the worst news of my life.

April 6, 1997, twenty years ago our family lives was drastically changed, with the death of my husband, father of my children. Mike was only forty-two years’ old when he passed away from a heart attack. Mike went to the hospital complaining of chest pains; he was observed in the hospital overnight, and some tests were taken of his heart. He was released from the hospital and three days later he died in his sleep from the widow maker heart attack. With the history of heart disease in the family, his grandfather/father passed away from heart disease at the age of forty years old. Waking up that morning and finding Mike has passed away in his sleep; was very devastating for our family, his mom, brothers, my sisters, and brother-in laws. At the time of his death, I was thirty-six-years old, a stay home mom, and our children Amy, was eleven years old, Kristina, nine years old, and Vincent seven years old. The hospital did not take any responsibility of his passing; we received no social services or any explanation from the hospital why the tests didn’t show any results of heart disease. Now my status is widow/single parent unemployed raising our three children on my own. Not knowing what the future holds for us.

Greetings to all, Artistic Director of Artslink Queensland and significant others. Thank you for taking time and giving me the opportunity to let me present to you my dramatic treatment to the 7 Stages of Grieving. This presentation will display my chosen scene and other significant ideas to this opportunity and I will present this with the justification of my dramatic decisions.

I can’t believe that I’m standing here ringing the doorbell of a woman that I just met. I probably seem like a stalker to her when all I want to do is return her wallet. And then a young man answers the door. It’s probably her husband or boyfriend, which makes this moment even worse. I hope that he doesn’t come back with a gun or punch me in the face. I’ve already been down that road and really don’t feel like getting into it today. But I knew that if I didn’t take the step to return the wallet, she would be going insane as to where she left it. I knew that much because I’ve been with enough women to know that when they lose anything of value, especially a purse, they go crazy just looking for it.

Ciska et al examined randomized controlled trials related to prevention or treatment of complicated grief from a systematic literature search to determine the short-term and long-term effect of both preventive and treatment interventions for adults with complicated grief (2010). Researchers used two search strategies to identify relevant studies. The first strategy was electronic databases Web of Science (WOS) and PsycArticles with the following search terms: “bereave OR mourning OR grief OR survivor OR widow” AND “psychotherapy OR therapy OR intervention OR treatment OR managing OR counselling OR support OR help”. The second strategy was searching qualified studies through the reference lists of large-scale review articles about the

When I was younger I was a killer. My mother would walk the aisles of the grocery store searching for our prey. She would single out the biggest in the pack, feel for the most tender, and strike. She’d fight with the other hunters for ownership of the animal, throw them in her cart, and carry it home to her young. Unlike the normal hunter, we had to prepare for our feast. With the meat in the center of our table surrounded by asparagus, mashed potatoes, and gravy, we prepared to pounce. “You may now eat”. Everyone grabbed and clawed for their piece. Snarling and refusing to talk, we shoved the mighty kill in our mouths. We were merciless. Our feast was over just as fast as it had begun. We wiped our mouths and put our murder utensils in the dishwasher, hoping to hide what had been done. The night continued casually, as if nothing wrong had been done.

The loss of your other half. I never knew how much of an impact losing your other half could have on you, until I experienced it.

The news of my grandfather's death shook me to the core. I had always heard people describe loss, but feeling so utterly

I have finally get to get the notebook so that i could read it at the Funeral. Our show couldn’t wait if we wanted to be on broadway we had to out her death on hold and continue the show. Now that the show has been off broadway for a while there's time to plan the funeral. Me and jackson looked through it and it really doesn't make any sense, it’s like she wanted to die.

“Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death,” (Brainyquote.com, 2016). Life in this day-and-age may often seem unkind, society is inherently violent, as demonstrated in popular films and television series. Many individuals seek to obtain professions that require the employee to regularly stake their own livelihood and safety on the line. Accompanied by the risk necessary to earn nominal wages, exists the probability that friends and co-workers, with whom one may have developed a personal closeness and affection, will from time-to-time be injured and killed in the line-of-duty. With added longevity in that career, death comes part and parcel. Chalking it up to being the nature of the beast, may be a successful defensive posture for a period of time. For many people, however, the day will inevitably come when reflection and introspection become more frequent, guilt sets in for having lived while many others perished. The fairness of life being called into question by the survivor, the long-term psychological effects become insurmountable (Goodtherapy.org, 2016). The bereavement just described is a condition known as survivor’s guilt, and is just one of many symptoms that can be expected when grappling with loss of life complexities.

I have lived in grief for almost ten years and as a result I obtained a blazing strength inside me that is far beyond than many other individuals’. Most people would try to forget or avoid the topic of death. I on the contrary, tried to fight with my depression; I stood strong and took his death as a motivation to fulfill my life. The strength I possess formed through grief and continues to grow from new hardships that I confront.

Gibson’s second seizure came a few days later as he sat at the top of the stairs, a place where he commonly went to relax.  The shaking started again.