Loss: A Narrative Fiction

Many emotions arise after losing someone close to you, a person may experience physical and psychological

My maternal aunt gathered us together and we all sat on the couch. She turned to my mother and told us she had cancer. I looked at my aunt and I did not know what to say or how to respond. Three months later, my father received a phone call from his sister telling him that my pregnant cousin, Elizabeth, was diagnosed with leukemia and had to give birth to her premature baby. She and I grew up in the same house in Arizona and what hurt me the most was not being able to be with her during this difficult time. When we went to visit her in Arizona, my dad told us before entering the hospital room that he did not want us to cry in front of her. I was scared to enter. I did not know what to say to her but I knew I had to be strong. We stayed there for the holiday season but we never celebrated the holidays, that was too

One of the concepts that people do not understand about grief and loss is the general idea of what it is and how it impacts people. According to Teen Health and Wellness’s article “Grief and Loss: Experiencing Loss,” is what happens when you no longer have something or someone that was extremely significant in your life, and the emotions that result are very real to you. You are entitled to these emotions. Many experts believe that the best thing for a person grieving to do is to let themselves feel sad. Lattanzi-Licht writes, common symptoms of grief are: “guilt or anger; restlessness; a sense of unreality about the loss; difficulty sleeping, eating and concentrating; mood changes; a loss of energy; constant thoughts of the

There were no words. She couldn't explain, she couldn't feel, she could just see. It was beautiful.

I was maybe 5 or 6 when my older brother Nathaniel lost his best friend, and he became extremely depressed. It didn’t help the fact that he was already being bullied by a giant kid about 3 feet taller than him. did hang out with his friend a couple of times, but I don’t remember his name.

Weeks passed and I remember it was late night and me and my brothers were upstairs in our rooms playing house when my parents came

Storytelling is an art that can take many forms. Stories engage people on all different levels and the greatest pathway to tell a good story is the use of emotion. It can also serve as a medium to communicate unsaid emotions. Stories educate and also preserve history by passing it carefully on to the next generation. Each person has a different story. One story is a just as fascinating and unique as the other and at some point in life one gets to realize that no two stories are exactly alike. Telling stories also present a way of understanding one’s life with a deeper understanding and meaning. Stories matter and sometimes all a person wants is a listener or just a way to know they are being heard. Very often, one

Days after I graduated eighth grade, I woke up in the middle of the night with the worst pain of my life: a stabbing in my stomach. I reluctantly woke up my parents, and they decided we should drive to the emergency room. The stabbing feeling persisted as I curled up in the back seat trying to block out the pain. We finally arrived at the hospital, and I somehow staggered to the entrance. Right outside, I threw up and then began to panic realizing that whatever was happening was more serious than a simple stomach ache. After this point most of what occurred was a blur; the only thing I remember is being transferred to Stanford Children’s Hospital.

Just before the my first day of middle school, my Aunt was admitted into the hospital. She had a gruesome battle with colon cancer for the past 18 months. She had been to the hospital many times before, had large amounts of her intestines removed, and lived to tell the tale. Sadly, this was not one of those times. This was my mother’s sister, and she drove to the Akron hospital to visit her. She came home that evening and sat me down, and I knew from the grave look on her face that something was wrong. “Justin, Aunt Patti isn’t coming home.” I cried and reasoned and asked why the doctors couldn’t do anything. My mother could not give the answers I so desired. I cried myself to sleep. The last seven days of my aunt’s life were spent in hospice. She was on an large amount of painkillers so she couldn't feel any more pain. Her eyes were closed and couldn’t talk, she was in an almost comatose state. I remember walking into her room for the first time. I’d never seen more love in one place. Her husband sat and slept in a chair beside her bed. We all were talking to her and joking and laughing about the good times had. The doctor said she couldn’t hear us, but that didn’t stop us. Any time she exhaled or let out a subtle grunt or moan, that was our sign that she was listening, trying to

“We love you and we wanted the best for you.” Dad said while my mom couldn’t stop crying.

Although I was young and unprepared death hit me where it hurt. I was unexperienced, I had no knowledge How? Why? I needed a reason but I never got one. The post-mortem came back unidentified. Her heart just stopped beating but for me that reason was invalid. She was healthy. What happened for her heart to stop? Why her? So many questions that were never truly answered. Anger was bottled up inside. I wanted answers; I wanted to blame someone for the pain I was suffering. I needed a reason to move on. Stay strong I told myself thinking the pain would go away soon but I didn’t.

One of the greatest challenges that I have had to overcome is dealing with the death of my best friend, Amreil Watson. It was junior year, April 27, 2015. Amreil and I were close and did almost everything together. We hung out every day, at school, after school, and even on the weekends. On April 27, I received a phone call from one of Amreils’ basketball teammates saying that he had passed out on the court and was being taken to the hospital at that very moment. I knew that no one could make such harsh, cruel jokes, but I still kept asking if it was really true. Later that day, my best friend passed away and I couldn’t feel anything but numbness. Days passed and I still felt so much pain that I fell into a horrible depression. It was hard for me to adapt to not seeing his face every day, and to find the motivation that I needed to go to school, and even just leave my room.

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.

For the most part everyone has lost a friend or family member. We always ask ourselves why this happens. I lost a very close friend of mine in a car accident almost a year ago, she would have been 17 this month. That was one of the hardest deaths I had ever gone through. I wonder why did she have to die at the age of 16 that isn't right, she should dtill be here. It took months to finally get use to the idea of her not being here and sometimes it still doesn't seem real that she is gone. I went through a doubting stage where I didn't believe that she was gone. I felt like I was in a dream and I was going to wake up one day and some how she was going to be here on earth again. I finally starting understanding that she was gone and everything

my heart sank and the tears rolled down my face as if I was trying to fill a river. I knew I