My Grandfather

Losing a grandparent at the age of 11 and younger was hard enough but losing one at the age of thirty-five hurt just as much. My grandmother is still living, I wasn't as close to them as I was to my other grandparents but there was still a relationship that was built throughout my lifetime. I had the chance to visit my grandfather while he was in the hospital. Regretfully when I went to see him he was too ill to have a conversation with, but my grandmother reassured me that it was ok because he knew I was there. My grandfather was cremated, this was the first time I attended a funeral where I saw a box of ashes holding someone who I loved. His funeral consisted our close family members and my grandfather's remains were placed in a mausoleum. His death affected all of us in one way or another, this was the first time I saw my dad cry. It makes me sad that he is no longer with us but glad he is no longer

I have lost my grandpa and have not gotten over the idea of it. When I was in the sixth grade, my grandfather was very sick; he could barely walk. While my grandmother and some other family members went uptown for some household things, food, and medication, I was told to take care of him. Yet, I wanted to play with my friends outside. He told me to go ahead and play, but for some reason I just got mad and slammed the door and left. Around nighttime, I seen an ambulance pull up to my grandparents’ house.

After several weeks of my Grandmother passing, I came to realize she wasn’t coming back. The feeling of shock had left and now I felt intense amount of emotional suffering. The continuous feeling of pain and unanswered questions lingered about in my mind. I began to wonder how it could have happened and what people could have done differently. At this time, my whole family was grieving over the loss as well.

In 1952 my grandfather, Albert S. Thanhauser, waited in line with the incoming class of Air Force soldiers in upstate New York as they prepared to enter the Korean War. Each quaking private presented their papers to the stone-faced officer at the front of the line, to receive their military assignment. As my grandfather approached with his documentation, something peculiar happened. “Hmm… Thanhauser,” muttered the gruff officer, “M.O.T.?” he asked quietly. A Brooklyn Jew, Al’s eyes lit up as he nodded and his papers were placed with the rest in the pile. M.O.T: Member of the Tribe, was an instantly recognizable code of camaraderie amongst Jews. Two weeks after this encounter, the night before being shipped off to Korea, Al received a memo: He was being pulled from the pack headed for Hell and instead was shipped to Japan to set up a flight school at an American base. The two years he spent on the airbase were some of the best of his life. Was this story was likely intended to instill me with a connection to Judaism? Was it just another of my Grandpa’s crazy stories? I had always focused on the result of this story - how it dramatically affected my grandfather’s life. But as I have grown older, the story has begun to resonate with me as beautiful demonstration of an act of kindness and virtue that I learn and grow from.

Having a close relationship with three of my grandparents, as well as being present during each of their dying processes, has greatly shaped my view of death. Death has a way of causing us to reflect. Death causes each of us to reflect on the life that is ending as we know it, to reflect on our lives and to reflect on the legacy we want to leave behind when it becomes our time. Having the

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.

My Grandfather died on December 5th, 2015. I was 15 at the time and I had only just started highschool as a junior a few months prior. I didn’t get to see him recently before his death, nor was I able to say goodbye to him before his passing. Instead, I got to wait patiently while the man I respected for so long took his last breath. I watched as he passed away, right in front of my eyes.

My grandfather was involved in many wars during the 1900s. His experiences started in the First Indochina War in 1946 and ended with the Vietnam War in 1975. His first war experience was during the First Indochina War, in which he fought for the French army against the Viet Minh force, an anti-French alliance. He was captured in 1953, but eventually and released in 1954 when the war ended with the International Geneva Conference. He then proceeded to move to Saigon in 1955 and worked as a journalist for a newspaper company during the Vietnam War.

Watching my grandmother lay in the hospital and dieing was one of the most painful feelings I have ever felt in my life. I felt many different emotions when she passed away. I felt sad, angry, shocked, and many more, but all those feelings made me stronger as person mentally. I knew that one day everyone would die and no one could control that. Her death affected me in both a positive and negative way. My dad regrets many things that he did to his mom, so I know now that one day my parents will die and I should respect them and let them know I love them every day. The death of my grandma also made a negative effect on my life. Ever since she passed away my family been breaking

Death and Dying is a normal process part of everyone’s lifecycle, and yet, is often a hidden topic and not discussed on a regular basis. Death is something we learn about over our own lifetime as we lose those dear to our hearts and mourn the loss that we experience. No two people experience death and react to death in the exact same way. Often, differing family and cultural practices can influence how one reacts and copes with death or a loss.

English was my first language, and I disliked learning Japanese so much that I stopped at a young age; the language gap between me and my family in Japan was too great, and it was frustrating at times. I admit that when I was still in grade school, I looked forward to going to Japan in the summers for the food and the sightseeing, much more than I looked forward to interacting with family. Not only that, but the age gap made it even more difficult to bond with my great-grandparents. They were born in the 1920s, and lived simple lives as farmers. I had no interest in going out to the fields with them and bonding with them. Seeing my great-grandfather’s body so still and cold that day definitely changed something within me. I was overcome with grief, wishing that I could turn back time, and I am sure Genji did too, so that I could improve our relationship and apologize for my horrible behavior. My mom and I shed many tears before, during, and after the funeral as Ukon and Genji did; there was nothing to smile about when someone so dear to us was gone forever. Another similarity is how my mother continues to talk about him fondly even now, several years after his death. Meanwhile, I always make sure to pay my respects to him every time I go back to Japan by lighting some incense at the Buddhist altar in the house and praying to him, and hoping that he is watching over me and proud of the person I am

About three years ago my grandpa passed, he was the heart and soul of the family. He always supported me and gave me advice. He was someone I looked up to. After his passing, I wasn’t the same. I felt that there was no purpose achieving anything in life without him there to watch me. When I enter

I remember for months I would have nightmares about dying, because I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought that one day I wouldn’t be on this earth and that one day I wouldn’t have my mom and dad with me. Eventually I finally understood what my grandma dying meant, and that’s when I started to feel sad about her passing, I just couldn’t believe that the lady I remember reading me bedtime stories, playing with me, and making who I am was no longer around just like that. After many sleepless nights I asked my mom “what happens to us when we die”? Her response was “some people believe that we go to an afterlife where we will live forever, and some believe that when we die we just are dead, but nobody really knows”. I thought about which of those ideas I believed to be true, and even today, I still don’t know which one I believe. After a while I finally realised something about death that I do believe, that even in death, my grandma was living through me in a way. I believed that because she had loved me, cared for me, and taught me somethings in the short time we had together, and in that way, she had left a piece of her own personality in me. So in the end, I came to this conclusion, that even though people die, they’re never truly gone, because they help to shape who the people around them are, and in doing so, they mix in bits and pieces of their personality with that persons, and

In the past two weeks, I’ve had family death and family hospitalized which caused a great amount of stress on me. My grandfather’s oldest brother died a month before his birthday, October 26th. It left a great deal of pain on my chest as I watched his grandchildren speak about him in ways I didn’t know was possible. Shortly before his death, my grandfather was hospitalized. I became accustomed to him being hospitalized since it was something unordinary. I didn’t expect this visit to be one of great length, but as usual with visits like these, I was mistaken.

Death is a natural part of life, you can't avoid it. When i realized this, I felt a lot better. I some how went back to my normal self and I now understand why people die. I am glad that that my grandfather died now, it might sound messed up but i would rather have him now being ain a better place than constantly suffering alive. Recently two other of my family members died and i didn't really feel that bad because I