Descriptive Essay About Sadness

I spent a good part of my childhood visiting my grandfather in the hospital. Those will be the best and worst memories of my childhood. I loved going to visit my grandfather but I also hated it. I loved going to the hospital because I loved seeing the doctors and nurses in action. I loved seeing how they handled their patients and I looked up to them because of how they took care of my grandfather. But I also hated going to the hospital because that’s where you would see so many people spending their last few days or hours with their families and that just made me have a mournful feeling deep down in my chest. I have always looked up to my grandfather. I was his right hand man or in this case his “right hand granddaughter.” He was my best friend, my hero and a second father figure growing up because even though he was battling cancer he still was the

The parents came out of Grandma’s room by one by one, bags under their eyes, makeup running down their face, and bright red noses. By that time, I could almost predict what happened. As my mom and dad approached us with their heads down, I prepared myself to hear exactly what I never wanted to hear. “The doctors are turning off the life support machine. She isn’t suffering anymore, and she will be looking over every one of you guys. She said she loves you all so much,” Mom told us while my dad didn’t hide his tears back.

I was awaken by my mothers frantic crying. Immediatly I broke down because I already knew what that meant. My grandpa was no longer living. We rushed to hospice were his cold lifeless body was still laying in the hospital bed. Walking into that room was probably one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. The moment we stepped into the door our family members were all circled around the hospital bed and all that was heard was weeping and crying. My mother was clearly affected the most by his death because she was the definition of a daddy’s girl. When she saw him laying there she instantly brroke down and rushed to his bedside and began talking to him as if he was alive. I remember her repeadtly saying “ I love you Wedaddy”. The look on my mothers face broke my heart. She had always been the light in a dark room. She was always the person that found a way to put a smile on everyones face. I had never seen her like this and it frightened me. Looking at my garndpa lay there lifeless and realizing I would never be able to get one of his famous hugs hurt

“Mommy, when will I die?” I can still hear my 4-year old’s little voice asking me this question from the backseat as I am driving. How do I answer her? Do I tell her the truth? Do I lie to her? How do I explain death to a 4-year-old? For her, this question was out of curiosity not fear. For me, this was the most gut wrenching question I had ever been asked. Holding back tears, I gave her the best answer that I knew at the time. “Everyone dies sweetie. Nobody knows exactly when they are going to die. Sometimes it just happens when you least expect it. We all hope to be here for a really long time. And there will always be

After several weeks of my Grandmother passing, I came to realize she wasn’t coming back. The feeling of shock had left and now I felt intense amount of emotional suffering. The continuous feeling of pain and unanswered questions lingered about in my mind. I began to wonder how it could have happened and what people could have done differently. At this time, my whole family was grieving over the loss as well.

I was panicking I didn’t know what I did I thought I was in some kind of trouble, but when I got to the principal’s office, there were 2-3 police officers there waiting for me. They sat me down with a concerned look and told me some terrible news. These few words that I could never get out of my head. It’s as if there locked in a prison. They told me that my father was in an accident at first I thought that they were just talking about a car accident. I had no idea what to expect. Then they told me that my father had passed away I started balling my eyes out I didn’t know what to do. They soon drove me back to my house where I saw my brother and a few neighbors and friends. There were a few cop cars and an ambulance. I later found out that he had committed suicide. My aunt and uncle came and picked us up from my house and brought us to their house where they tried to cheer us up a bit it was my cousins birthday so we tried to have a

When I was younger, I grew up with four grandparents who I could spend time with. As I started to grow older, my grandparents started to deteriorate. My grandmother developed Alzheimer’s, and more specifically dementia. I remember one day at my beach house when I was talking to her, she asked me who I was because she couldn’t remember. She didn’t remember her own grandson. She started to lose all her memory and she had difficulty hearing and speaking. It got to a point where there was no way of communicating with her, and we wondered if she even knew who her own family was. She went through this deterioration for upwards of 5 years, and I it got to a point where I forgot what she was like before she developed the mental disease. I would watch

I had no idea what to think. Plane crashes only happened in TV shows where the characters landed more or less safely on some sort of magical, deserted island. This shocked my simple, easy-going 9-year-old world and was quite frightening for me. I thought that this would just be a strange anomaly, but it was not. A year later, I lost another friend, a boy who could have gone on to be the next Messi, died unexpectedly to a malicious cancer. Two years after that, another childhood friend to a swimming accident. All of these were accidents, horrible tragedies that occurred to young kids just as healthy and normal as I was. Nothing about these boys gave any hint to their tragedies that would cut their lives short, yet in almost the blink of an eye, their lives were. This made the idea of death very real to me. Before them, the only death’s I had really known were that of my great-grandparents. However, in this case, my great-grandparents’ deaths were expected, while those three boys’ were not. While death had become more of a reality to me, it still did not come across as something that could really affect me, but more of just a fear hidden somewhere in the back of my head. Come my 8th grade year in middle school, however, all of this would

On October 29, 1929 an invention that so many people’s lives and saving crashed. The stock market. William Foshay never expected it to take effect when he created such a reality, but with this crash, it ruined lives. People were homeless. Foodless. Moneyless. Jobless. With such troubled times, it certainly did bring out the best and the worst in people. There aren't as many people to tell their stories anymore. But we can tell them from remembrance of them. Here’s a story of people who did obtain the best and the worst lives, and everyone in betwixt.

The experience was honestly chilling. I couldn’t remember a time I ever saw my Grandfather in a state like he was then. He had always been strong and joyful, smiling at anyone who was willing to spend the time to look. So, when I saw him, practically skin sticking to bone, it took everything I had to not cry the streams of tears that screamed to pour out. He was someone who I always respected, and now he was fighting to stay alive, and losing.

I could hear muted sobs as friends and family members began lashing out in tears. Yet, I stood still as ever as memories with my best friend began flashing in my head. I was best friends with a girl who lived right next door to me since birth. We told secrets and laughed with one another since the day I can recall my earliest memory as a child. It was unfortunate to see it all come to an end now that she was gone. All I saw was her lifeless body slowly turning pale on a stretcher stationed on her living room floor. This was one of those moments that makes you question how quickly life can take an unexpected turn. I wasn't willing to accept that

Thesis: Every individual has been at greif sometime in their life. Feeling helpless, hopeless, and worthless is understandable when going through a life struggle, a loss, and low self esteem. Reacting this way may turn out to be clinical depression rather than just a bad case of blues.

In the autumn of 2013 my beloved grandmother suffered from many medical complications. After discovering esophageal cancer, surgery to remove it caused a tear in her esophagus, which led to numerous health hazards. As a result, the cancer spread throughout my grandmother’s bloodstream and it was impossible to maintain her health. By October of the same year, she fought to maintain her optimistic personality that I admired so dearly as a child. There was nothing more the doctor’s could do and while she wasn’t able to speak clearly, she understood the circumstances completely. As my mother asked her if she was ready to rest she pointed up to the heavens with her eyes closed. As we said our goodbyes she was given morphine until she was no longer with us. To force my grandmother to suffer and endlessly wait for healing would have been selfish of us. It is hard for those of us who are healthy to consider death as a logical option in crucial situations. While it is a difficult concept to grasp, in certain circumstances it is the better

Warily, I walked over to where my father was standing right outside the school, waiting for Cole and I, when I saw he had shades on, I knew for sure that something was wrong, due to the fact he never wore shades. When we were to the pick-up my whole family was in there. Noticing, when I jumped in the pick-up, my mother also had shades on. Anxiously, I sat there attentively for the longest second of my life, then my father stammered to us that grandfather had passed away. Countless emotions were running through me, overwhelmed; I didn’t know what to think, raving; owing to they said he was going to be adequate, grieving; due to I didn’t get to talk t6o my grandfather before he passed

Thinking about death and dying is a very difficult subject to approach. There are movies, television shows, songs, books, and real life situations that basically force us to think about death and dying daily in one way or another. When we consider real life situations either involving our loved ones or ourselves, we must think about the ways in which we may be treated and how this treatment may affect our understanding of death and our role in the process. I am going to address this as well as how the ways in which people treat those who were dying many years ago compared to in our modern time is significantly different. There is also a phrase that is commonly being used in the United States known as the “medicalization of death”. I am going