Personal Narrative: How Death Changed My Life

There is one thing in this world that no one can escape, that everyone fears, and makes people who are close to that person miserable, and that is death. Death is the worst thing that can ever happen to a person, and is just as bad for the people who are close to them. There is an emptiness that comes with the death of a loved one or someone close. That blankness in the world does something to the people who encompass that person who passed. It changes people, whether it is for better or worse. Death is a part of life and depending on how people are affected can dictate whether it will leave a positive or negative change to their life and that conversion happened to me with the death of my mother, Fran.

Fire is what sent me to Miami. Death is what sent me back to Nashville, Georgia. I thought that death would no longer burden me when Grandma died. I was young though. Death follows us. I know it followed me.

Witnessing death was something that came surprisingly easy for me. I didn’t scream, I didn’t become sick, I was oddly settled.

I got home, and there was my mother, crying. That was helluva sight. That was the only time I’d ever see my mother cry. In 26 goddam years, that was the only time. She didn’t even cry at Allie’s goddam funeral.

Why am I torturing myself? Enclosed in a 3 sided cage with only the illusion of freedom out the steel framed front door. The mirrors on the walls staring at my jiggling fat from all angles. The dingy ceiling tiles are stained from countless roof leaks and the floor littered with pebbles and rubber from a busted medicine ball. The sting of body odor and bleach fills my nostrils. Head splitting music ravishes my ears through the chaos of weights clashing and ropes smacking the floor. My classmates glare at me with their squinty hypocritical eyes.

death. “ To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death”

After four months of unglamorous international travel followed by four more months of endless, demoralizing doctor’s visits and hospital stays I returned to Miami worse for wear. Eight months without seeing my friends and barely keeping in touch through infrequent phone calls and texts meant that the vague, untested friendships I had made before my semester off had almost completely fizzled. Facing my mortality had subtly affected the way I acted and completely changed my perspective on life; making it difficult to reconnect with old acquaintances and to relate to the few friends I kept throughout my treatment.

In spite that reuniting with my mother was a very important moment for me, I was facing a tough time in my life where I was leaving most of my relatives, friends and everything I knew behind, to start a new life, to start from

I am not a religious woman, I take no stock in stories of creation, I do not believe the world was crafted by some divine and omniscient power. Our thoughts, our perceptions, every aspect of our lives are a result of the intricate set of rules that govern the universe, some might call that god. I call them physics. We enter this world as a tiny collection of cells, multiplying and specializing to create a human life, and we leave it as a much larger, immensely complex amalgamation. Thus far in my life, I have never doubted my convictions, I have attended church, read scripture, and listened to the words of priests, pastors, and self-proclaimed experts. Yet a few months ago my lack of faith was tested. One night, I lay awake, filled

I can’t remember when or where, but I recall reading this quote: “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.”1 Corinthians 13:11”

David, we met when I was 19 turning 20. I'm turning 24 this year and I don't have any interest to rewrite history with you. When I met you, I was going through a very difficult stage in life (my breakup). Through that ugly mess you were a great person who made me realize that there are many more great guys out there.. And for that, I did end up liking you. However, you and I were so busy playing this cat and mouse game. Eventually, I grew out of that game and we stopped talking. We connected a year later (I contacted you to apologize) but it wasn't because I was interested in you or anything. I simply just want to apologize because that's where I'm at in life.. I want to apologize to those I've done wrong too. I did like you many many years

It was called the “Years of Death” by my family. With this recent war and the constant need to draft, the food and clothing were scarce. My family figured out a way to survive. We survived off the land. Being in Siberia, though, made things, like food, scarce. “Vladimir!” my mother screamed from downstairs, “Dinners ready!” I was overjoyed. I ran downstairs at a fast pace. I could smell the rabbit my father had killed this morning. It had been a while since my last warm meal. “Where is your sister?” I shrugged and went to her room. “Sasha, dinners ready.” she did not move. I walked up to her and tapped her. She fell over, lifeless. Instantly a wave of depression went over me. We were all hungry, but none of us knew she was that hungry. I began

My mothers death changed me. I knew I had to change and for the better. I didn't want to waste time. I couldn't mope around and wish that her death wouldn't happen I couldn't change her death. Two days after her death I went back to school and began working nonstop. If my time was precious then I was going to make it count. Instead of watching t.v alone I would study, my G.P.A rose. I started going out spending time with friends and family. I went to school dances and participated in events because as much as the term is over used you only live once. I was making memories to last a lifetime and along the way I was building a future. I didn't realize at the time that my nonstop work was helping me build a resume. All of the extracurricular

However, losing your mother is the toughest of all our losses in life. Sadly, I know this from personal experience. Images of my mother flashed in my mind. I thought of how her passing left me with a deep sense of loneliness. And still today I long to talk with her again, to see the spark in her eyes each time we laughed. To hear the sound of her voice or feel the comfort of her

My mother was a stranger to me, I was to young to remember the days I was with her. I knew it wasn’t long though.