Grandmother

Painful as it may be, such experiences brings home the finality of death. Something deep within us demands a confrontation with death. A last look assures us that the person we loved is, indeed, gone forever.” (108) Cable finishes his essay by asking, Tim if his job ever depressed him. Tim in reply says, “No it doesn’t, and I do what I can for people and take satisfaction in enabling relatives to see their loved ones as they were in real life.” (108) After reading this essay I feel as though sometimes we don’t understand death so therefore we do not talk much about it. By reading about what goes on after your loved one dies and is sent to these places to be prepared and ready for burial, it helps to understand why morticians and funeral directors do what they do. Knowing that someone enjoys taking the responsibility in providing that comfort in a sorrowful time makes me appreciate these people in these occupations a bit

She lays helplessly, hopelessly tranced. What will remain of her in the coming hours is unknown, but one thing is for certain, I will remain by her side until she is an empty house, cold and unseeing. Though sorrow may fill my bones, all that I let show through is a sense of tranquil energy in lieu of the recent events. She mumbles and murmurs longing for the life long past. Embarrassment occupies her brain as she contemplates why and how her life has come to this. She reeks of stupidity and frailness when her life was nothing close to that. She fears that what we leave behind is more important that what we were. Is it though? Regardless of what she was or what she has become, I am here and I will always be here.

In reading this book it triggered a memory from over ten years ago. In 2001, I lost my great-grandmother to heart related issues. For me her death went farther than just losing a relative. As far back as I can remember my great-grandmother was a part of my daily life. My mother had me when she was still in high school so naturally she still lived at home. My father was nonexistent in

Varley book targets young ages from 4 to 10-year old’s as the topic of death is discussed as moving through a tunnel and gradually gaining back the abilities that were lost with aging and coming to rest as a complete being. The lesson within this story is how cope with the loss of a grandparent or an elderly relative as they age and come to die, and to relive the memories they have left behind to pass on to another. Susan Varley approach to death is very childlike, it allows anyone who reads her book to ask questions about the passing of an individual, such as, i.e., why did they die? Is it okay to feel sad? Is it okay to talk about the person? Is it okay to share memories?

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

In his book, Dying Well (1998), Dr. Ira Byock artistically brings a sense of humanity and compassion to a topic so often dismissed and silenced: death. Dr. Byock’s personal experience with his dying father shaped his views on caring for terminally ill patients. Through his father’s death, Dr. Byock recognized the importance of familial support, how to communicate openly, and to make the last moments of one’s life meaningful. These lessons are evident in his telling of Anne-Marie’s, Douglas’s, and Janelle’s prospective end of life stories.

A soft pressure on my hand stirs me from my slow descent into misery. Looking up, I meet the kind yet frail face of my only family left: Grandma. She is the sole reason that some light still peeks through the hooded cloud of death

Then, as I imagined my body as a corpse, my fears of factors present with death started to slowly dissipate. For instance, the pallid, sunken demeanor of the face to stillness of the whole body created a vivid picture of myself on the deathbed. At first, it was hard to visualize my physical body having an appearance of death, but my mind overcame the images and accepted that my body undergoing changes, such as that, is a part of the process of death. I believe that this acceptance will assist me in other avenues concerning death that I must face. For example, the recent Caring Conversations assignment I completed led me to think that writing down guidelines for one’s preferences nearing death should be crucial. Therefore, after this meditation, I was struck with the urge to ask my mother about her plans nearing the end-of-life. The reason for asking had to do with my worry for the future, and my inquiries about providing my parents with quality end-of-life care. The case of David, who had a brain tumor, in Halifax’s Being with Dying gave me a clear example on how to broach the topic of

It was difficult to see her in this way. I saw how small she had gotten, swallowed by the stark, white sheets. Even as I struggled with the sight of what was visible about my Grandma, I could sense she was at peace. Cautiously, I approached her bed and she looked up at me with a smile on her face. Grandma squeezed my hand and thanked me. A week later, I attended her funeral. Throughout the funeral process, I did not cry. I was handling death in a way I understood and could handle. A week later, everything finally sunk in and I sobbed with grief. I tried my best to adjust to school again as I battled with my own

Memories of so many wonderful times of love and laughter are still so vivid in my mind. I daydream about my precious grandmother enjoying beach days, taking me to pick strawberries, or one of our amusing sleepovers where we made forts to sleep in and tried on all of her red hats. Once my grandmother was a member of the Red Hatter’s Club and even though I did not know what that was I knew I wanted to be one. This young 77 year old lady had inspired me to live my life to the fullest. I still look and yearn to see that vivacious white haired angel in the stands at my games or on the bench when I come out of Sunday school. She is still so loved and greatly missed and I can not wait to meet her again. I know she will be there waiting with a smile and a hug to show me her beautiful mansion in heaven and share all her wonderful

“Molly, we have something to tell you,” my parents said, walking into the living room with saddened looks on their faces. I paused the movie and awaited their news. “Your grandma has been diagnosed with cancer.” I definitely was not expecting that to be the news, so it hit me like a brick wall; I was troubled and overwhelmed by the news to such an extent that I was speechless. She has been an important figure in my life for as long as I can remember and has always been there to listen and give me advice whenever I need it. Her insight into the important things in life has helped me and will continue to as I pursue my dreams for years to come.

The car ride up to the local cemetery in a small town in New Jersey was as silent as the ghost of my great-aunt herself- empty and bleak. I only assumed that everyone around me was clinging onto the past memories we shared with her, feeling the shock of what we could no longer turn the pages of time back to. I could not fully imagine how my dad must have felt that somber day. He would often reminisce about the tender moments he shared with her as a spirited youth with the rest of the family, his voice always springing to life when he spoke of the past. Sitting in the back of the car, I glanced at him in the driver’s seat, peering at his eyes to notice how he seemed to be staring into another place of existence that was left untouchable to the rest of my family.

The morning was gloomy and cold. Today was November 22nd at the Hope Lutheran Church. Today, my family and I were attending Grandma’s memorial service. My family looked so cleaned up and fancy. I thought if this wasn’t a memorial service we were going to, we looked like we were going to a fancy dinner. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the latter. All 14 of us piled into two separate cars and headed on our way. I felt empty and hollow approaching the church. Today would be the day that my family and I would shed waterfalls streaming from our eyes. The church had felt homely and rustic before, but now it felt dark and sad. Grandma didn’t deserve to die, I thought, as I went through the doors of the church. The church felt warm inside, like a warm blanket from the dryer. Why is 2014 such a bad year for us? Why did Uncle Mike die? Why

In 2003, the Warner family only went to church on important holidays. But after my grandmother’s death, we would be visiting church for a different reason. My family visited her house the evening of her death. We saw where she stayed in the last room on the left. I remember the old clock with roman numerals that I did not understand as a young child and the organ that had recently replaced the grandfather clock—that scared me every hour it rang. On top of that organ, she placed her collection of glass dolls, a candle, and a few pictures that represented how small our family was. There was also a picture of my grandfather (who I never met), because he had given my grandmother and my own mother a great life. I remember grandma explaining how

In spite of this painful occurrence happening to me at twenty-four years of age, emotions such as shock, anger, and guilt, came into play creating chaos. I rerun her death in my mind, yet unable to completely forget the sadness, similar to a synopsis. These feelings can be frightening and overwhelming; however I have learned how to cope and with the realization that life and death are phenomenal both intertwined. I speculate that when one passes on they continue to be