Grandmother

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?

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

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 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

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 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.

Although people who know me might picture me being in Ravenclaw, but Hufflepuff is actually the right house for me. I was sorted into the house Hufflepuff because the house characteristics suits my personality in many ways. I am kind, patient, hardworking and clever. I agree with the Sorting Hat that Hufflepuff is the right house for me.

Finally, the nurse came and allowed us entrance to one of our worst nightmares. There the whole family stood with the understanding that they were taking the ventilator off and this could be the last time we would ever see this amazing woman. Each grandchild took their time getting one last hug and saying goodbye. I stood waiting my turn thinking how could I ever possibly whisper into words the gratitude and admiration I had for this wonderful woman. The whole room was on edge trying to be strong for each other. Eventually it was my Aunt Julia’s turn. As she stood there holding my grandmother’s hand crying saying, “Momma, it’s your little girl, please wake up, I know you can do it, you’re strong enough”. I thought my heart would explode. Then, as my dad, the strongest man I know, went over to pull her away from the bedside he began to sob as well. This was almost unbearable to witness without making a scene. I gazed out the window with a desire to be anywhere but in that horribly bleak room facing this unimaginable tragedy with my family that was full of life and laughter. When my Aunt Julia finally was composed once again and acknowledged once again that this was God’s will she said fo the last time, “It’s okay, I understand you are tired. I love you”. The whole room seemed to begin to spin and true mourning was awaken in my soul for this amazingly wonderful woman that held such a

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

“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.

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

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

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

In some states they practice death penalty as a form of capital punishment. The death penalty has been around since the country has been founded and is defined as the punishment of execution, administered to someone legally convicted of a capital crime. Legally there are only a number of ways one can be executed here in the U.S, those include; lethal injection, electrocution, gas chamber, hanging, and firing squad, with lethal injection being the most common form. For centuries people have argued for or against this potentially controversial saying morally, constitutionally it is either correct or incorrect, it will or will not deter criminals, and the cost of death/life in prison is cheaper.

he first sign, the other will announce that this person will use the first court assigned to him, the next one assigned to the second court, more than an analogy. The purpose of such an approach is to avoid his court being known, and each person can only preside over the court designated by lot.