Grim: My Talk with Death

I remember an old saying my mother used to tell me, “Never say never”. Is this true? I would have never expected this to be true till something happened to me that changed my life till this very day. Growing up I was oddly very cold hearted. I guess I was never the gurly girl always crying after a finger nail broke or the kind of person that wore her heart on her sleeve. I would always keep things to myself and let it be the day someone saw me cry. Most people just thought I wasn’t human. Crying…

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years. One of the earliest memories I have of my father is when he would take me to the park and we would play baseball. My father was eager to teach me…

The term death is often used lightly. It is frequently used in jokes and idle threats, and rarely taken seriously. Few individuals really grasp the concept of death and how it can distort the lives of the people it comes in contact with. I was among the clueless until I was ten years old. I was running home from soccer practice, speeding towards the cursed intersection, not but a quartermile from my house when it happened. Luckily I am here today to reflect on that moment. My near death experience…

and Death in In Memory of My Dear Grandchild and Upon Wedlock and Death of Children Literature delivers or expresses ideas according to the social and cultural settings of the particular time of the writers. Even though it is designed to be in a certain time frame, the concepts overlap each other. The poems "In memory of my dear grandchild" by Anne Bradstreet, "Upon wedlock and death of children" by Edward Taylor though were written in different eras, they have a common concept "death". The…

The man in the grave commented. The Litigator let out a sudden guffaw and responded calmly with, “Your comments won’t matter once you’re down there forever. Alone. Six feet under. Where nobody can here peep a word.” he paused momentarily. “Death is unpleasant my friend” The man became fearful after hearing this sad, yet true comment that his chest reacted with a small reflex, causing goose bumps to form everywhere on his body. The Litigator reached for his black pistol in the back pocket of his jeans…

My Father’s Death I had always thought that all little girls had the same dream as me. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of the day that I would get married; the most important moment would be walking down the aisle by the arm of my father. My father is one of the most important persons in my life. He is my hero, my motivation, my everything. It never passed through my mind that I would have to struggle with many difficult phases at such a young age. When I started to attend middle school…

Identity in Things Fall Apart and “I Lost My Talk” Identity can be explained as the state or fact of being a specific person or thing. [definition is good, but needs to be more specific] A specific person or thing can be defined by his/her personality, interests, family, community or culture. [connect your definition to the novel and poem—that’s why previous sentence was inserted] In both Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart and in Rita Joe’s “I Lost My Talk”, Okonkwo and the persona, become confused…

on the light, and grabbed my textbook from my night-table. Today was just the start of another ordinary day of school, and I could not help myself from looking forward to the weekend as I went over Newton’s three laws in my head. As I turned to the next page of my notes, I was startled by the sound of a doorbell. At four o’clock, who could be at the door? Could it just be a simple mistake? The wrong house maybe? My intuition said otherwise; I knew something was wrong. My mother got up out of bed and…

memories but with an empty house. Where only a short time ago my house was truly a home, it now shelters only me. The now empty space shows still the remnants of love and companionship. The decorated tree is still standing, but is now barren of the decorated gifts beneath its green wings. The long table recently laden with nourishment, surrounded by conversation, laughter and reminisces of the year has bid final farewell sits empty now. My shoes are no longer crowded at the front door, I would wish…

The Death of my grandmother a life experience that changed my Identity My sense of independence was shattered when my grandmother departed from this world. I lost my grandmother and this experience shattered my perspective of life. Losing a loved one was like having a wisdom tooth pulled without any Novocain. 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…