My Father 's Death Bed

While growing up several deaths that took place within my family. Some I had no idea who the people were but can clearly memorialize the funerals taking place and the reactions of those around me. Even though I cannot recall any memories of my great grandfather, I can remember when he passed away. Everyone was gathered at my great grandparents' house in Kerrville,

Walking into the funeral home, I felt the air engulf me in a warm blanket, slowly unfreezing my body from the cold I had just been in. The entrance was packed with a sea of people wearing black, most of which I did had no idea who they were. There, I stood on my tiptoes, trying to pick out a familiar face in the crowd. Finally, I saw the father of the girl we came to the funeral home to see walk over to my parents. His face was pale and blank, and I saw his face contort from a grimace to a forced smile before approaching them. Words were exchanged, and suddenly we were being led into the crowd.

Weeks later, sorrow spread throughout all branches of the family. Grandmama passed on and the family gathered once again for the funeral. Several relatives flew in from Mexico and those from northern California returned. The funeral was filled with tears, but there was also joy at seeing relatives whom my mother, aunts, and grandmothers had not seen in many years. Although the reason for assembly was heartbreaking, my family, young and old, came together to celebrate the life of

When I was 7 years old I attended a funeral for my great grandfather. He was 105, and had lived a full life. I wasn’t very close to him but seeing him in the casket was so odd and he looked like an alien. I was a curious child so I stood in front of the casket just observing the body and glancing around at the sadness that this room was filled with. My uncle joined me and asked me if I had said spoken to my great grandfather. I just looked up at him and said “No, he is dead”, since I was pretty certain dead people didn’t talk anymore. Well, he proceeded to tell me that if I asked him a question, my great grandfather would indeed respond. I didn’t ask since I was already scared at this point. My uncle did for me, he asked, “Grandpa, if you

My grandpa died of Cardiac Arrest, where a sudden stop of blood flow fails due to the heart. At that time that I received the news from my family in Guatemala, I didn’t know how to react. Whether I should be sad and cry or stay quiet and give my condolences. All I knew is that it really hurt my family and they wanted to be with him. My grandma thought of something, booking a flight to Guatemala as soon as possible for his funeral. She decided to take me, my aunt and cousin. They were the only ones who really wanted to go in my family living in Los Angeles.

I have had many family members of mine pass away, but the one death that I am going to share is the one with my poppop, Daniel DelCasale, on my dad’s side of the family. It was not the first death of a relative of mine, but it was the first death that had an effect on me and that I remember having a reaction to. Both of my grandmothers passed away by the time I was six years old. I did not go to my mommom’s funeral on my mom’s side because I was only five years old. I did, though, go to my Nana’s funeral, however, I do not remember going or anything for some reason.

I have always been fascinated by the human body and how it works, even when life no longer exists within it. I, myself have never had to deal with the death of a loved one, but I have been to my fair share of funerals. On many occasions, I have had to prepare myself for what lies beneath the doors of the neatly polished caskets. I remember the very first time I had to go to a funeral, I was ten years old and a very good family friend of ours had passed away. I had dressed in my very best that day, my family and I approached the closed doors of the visitation room. Nothing had prepared me for what was in store for me beyond those doors. Sobs and cries flooded through the slow opening doors, with a wave of cold air that showered over me. Everyone was dressed in nicely pressed suits and straight black dresses, and there between the passing crowds of people I could see it, the freshly polished wood casket. My mother turned to me and stated “You can sit in the car with your brother if you want, you don’t have to see this if you don’t want to.” I looked deep into her tear-filled eyes and blinked rapidly. After considering the option, she had given me I relied slowly “It’s okay, I can handle this. I want to say goodbye too.” I approached the casket cautiously with the fear of the unknowing. Once I reached the side of the casket I peered down at my beloved elder, but I wasn’t frightened. I knew she was no longer living because of the slight discoloration to her skin, but she looked so happy. Her makeup was done so flawlessly and she was dressed in her Sunday best with her arms across her stomach clutching a bouquet of flowers which filled the surrounding area. She was so beautiful, I then glanced back at everyone in the area, some sitting and some standing off to the side all of them had the same look on their faces. They all looked so pained, I just could not understand why. She was the lucky one she was able to

Not long ago, I was involved in managing a patient with terminal cancer. Near the end of her life, I visited her. She held my hand and said something I have never forgotten: “when I see you, holding my hand in the last moment of my life, I realize you are my true son.” I was moved by this. It felt like the fulfillment of my purpose – though I could do nothing to save her, I was able to give her at least the small amount of comfort.

When I ponder the first 17 years of my life, I realize that I have taken my life for granted. I’ve never actually thought about how soon my life could end, not seeing my loved ones ever again, and never being able to enjoy life’s glorious moments. Having a miraculous, close encounter with death has changed how I view life. I pay attention to the details of my life more, and the small things in life don’t seem to aggravate me as much as they did in the past.

Never thought I was going to die like this. In my childhood, I had somehow convinced myself that my death would be grand, or at least substantial in the scheme of things; taking a bullet for my true love, or holding my grandchild’s hand as my consciousness faded away in a hospital bed. Never like this. This was a newspaper death, inconsequential, forgotten the next morning. The universe would be ready to move on before my wake.

My grandmother passed away from colon cancer when I was six. We held a funeral at the local church, but since she passed away in Korea, my family was not able to bring her body. I remember my mother delivering her eulogy, but she was struggling to carry on as she was breaking down with tears rushing down her face. However, she looked at me and stopped crying – finishing the eulogy. I was too young and naïve to understand why she was mourning; instead, I pouted and I dreaded that entire funeral, oblivious to the circumstances I was in. I did not cry nor did I feel a single wave of sadness. I was too immature to realize how traumatizing this was for my mother.

The author did a very good job with her choice of words and intonation, it helped that she was in the anecdotes that she told in her essay because it made the connection clear. The author effectively conveys her connection to the actions of others because she has been there before. She has inconvenienced her life to go to someone else’s funeral. Back then she did not understand it, until she was in the family’s place. Her ideas come across very clearly. She shows that the smallest gesture of attending a funeral could mean the world to the family because they lost someone, a person attending the funeral shows them that they are not alone in their grief, that they have others alongside them to help them along in the difficult period.

on a rare day off, regretting having signed up to serve this funeral for no reason, only grieving my lost sleep. Then Kevin began his speech. I listened to him talk about his grandpa and he made us laugh and others cry with his anecdotes about his times spent with his grandfather, but then he mentioned that he played chess with his grandpa. In the split second after that I became horribly sad and ashamed as little pieces of information began to connect in my head. They combined to form Joe and Kevin, grandfather and grandson, playing chess, but now Joe is dead and Kevin is crying in front of his whole

I clearly remember the day I found out about my granddad's passing. I was at school. It was a normal, joyful day. My dad was planning on picking me up, but instead my friend's mom picked me up. He would not tell me why, but I did not think much of it. I remember the car ride to my house. My friend's mom would not tell me why she was driving me home; all she told me was, "Just know, Ryan, that we will be here for you no matter

I only have one memory of my Uncle; he was like a star, nice, warm, caring and would never do anything to harm someone he loves…or loved. When I was little my family visited my foreign family in Scotland; the only thing I remember is when my Uncle screamed “Happy Birthday Kiddo” and threw me into a bouncy castle. That’s all I remember about that trip…and my uncle. If I only met my uncle once why should I have to leave school to go to his funeral? I won’t know anybody; nobody will know me; I will just take up space. What’s the point?