Personal Narrative: How Death Has Affected My Life

"Everyone dies, some faster than others, some willingly and others not, but we all die. We all learn that. But it's the fact that you accept it or not. The fact that you take death in with open arms, or run away fearing for your life. I had open arms welcoming death but not now, I have to live for him, he was the one thing I would live for. I was so naive thinking it would last forever. I was stupid thinking that letting someone in would be a good thing for me. When I know everything comes with a price, everything gets too old some day, too broken, too beaten, too unwanted. But it felt so good, so wrong, but so right. I was blinded of what was right in front of me. I killed him. It was my fault

Cozy coffee shops, warm summers, friendly hugs…1.2.3. Disastrous events occur all the time. We are always aware that someone, somewhere in the world, is hurtling forwards into tragedy. Tragic endings leave behind unanswered questions, unfulfilled dreams, unspoken thoughts. Those who love you are left behind, in the dust of your presence, spent to forever remember only your memory, not your existence. Crisp slices of toast, piping hot cups of tea, fresh strawberries…1.2.3. We all tend to forget an end exists. We spend our lives compiling as many happy memories as we can, fully enjoying the good days, deeply mourning the sad ones. When tragedy strikes, only then are we reminded that the end is there, and we scurry and try once again to make the most out of

As a child, I knew nothing about loss. The closest think I had known about loss would be my dog dying a few years before. I was devastated and I cried forever, but it was nothing compared to when my brother died. The loss of my brother to suicide taught me more about life than I would have thought. I learned that death is different from when I was a kid than it is now, also how I cope with it and relearn about death each year that passes by.

When I was a kid in Lakewood Washington I had always loved Halloween and going trick or treating. I was going to be a ghoul that year and I had just gotten home from school and I said “Mom, mom where are you.” and I see Torin my little brother in his crib crying my moms door was open and I walked in to look for mom and I see her dead in the closet hanging.

Death. The word itself is spine-chilling. The word is almost dripping with terrifying memories. The word reeks of sadness and teardrops. This word, death, seems like it is impossible to accept. Death is like a dark room that slowly gets smaller, eventually crushing you.

As we mature, we learn to appreciate certain people in our lives, for instance: our grandparents. We live with the fear that we can lose them in the blink of an eye, as every passing day brings them closer to their death beds (hyperbole), but we're too busy living our lives, making time for work, school, and friends (Euphemism). We assure ourselves that we have forever to spend with them, but that is where we are mistaken. Unfortunately, this year in January, I experienced the cruel reality of death, myself. I have realized, truly how much death can change your perspective on many aspects of life. When I faced with this death, I began to appreciate family more, began to express my love for them more out of the fear that any goodbye could be the last.

When I was in the third grade I lost my favorite uncle to a vehicle crash. This was my first experience of death that came with a powerful lesson. This saying expresses the continuum of adaptance when an individual experiences loss.I felt overwhelmed with grief, disappointment, and bereavement when this relative died. Everyone told me that it was okay to feel sadness and that I could grieve as long as I needed because this was natural. I was told over and over again that grief gets better with time. I learned that it was natural to cry, hurt, and grieve but remember it will get better with time. You learn to leave with loss after death. Death is inevitable but I am the American that expresses shock and disbelief every time.

It was a bright and sunny August day. I went over to the Ortega’s house with my parents. They have a big backyard full of rocks. When we got there I saw this rock so I layed on it. I told my mom and said ‘mom take a picture of me and and send it to mema tell her I’m dead.’ Little did I know my life could change like that.

After my mom died from a car accident our family decided to just put everyone's name on one headstone after they died. First it was my moms, then my grandmas, then my aunt and uncle and we decided to put my dads on their as well cause after mom died he left. It seemed like there wasn’t going to be any room left by the time me and my brother died. Hopefully it isn't soon.

She follows me into the dining room, unaware of the hell on earth we're about to experience.

Encountering the death and loss of a loved one is seemingly one of the most difficult things someone can go through. One starts to question everything they’ve ever known because they don’t know what to believe. In my case, I questioned whether or not God was real. My brother was 16 when he passed away due to a massive heart attack. I didn’t understand how God could be so unfair and take away one of the little things in my life that made me happy. I started to ask myself if Christianity was for me. At first I gave up interest every Sunday morning and Wednesday night. Soon enough my mom started to notice and she started drifting away from God as well. Eventually we just stopped going all in all. My brother’s death has definitely shaped me into

Sitting in the pew waiting on family members to arrive I closed my eyes and started focusing on my senses. I could hear cries, laughter reminiscing of a past father friend uncle nephew grandfather cousin. Stories that covered 50+ years of life. I could smell, perfume cologne cigarettes alcohol sweat a hint of flowers and death . I can feel panic fear loneliness nervousness and lost souls . Opening my eyes I try to connect the person to the sound smell or touch. Motivation comes to mind why do we really come to funerals? To honor a loved one to heal a lost relationship to see who attended ? The preacher reflected on 40+ years ago going to school with the deceased and hinted on Christian characteristics that may have showed a possibility of him

The news arrives on a sunny Friday afternoon. A shrill ring from the phone grabs the attention of my whole family; burned into my memory forever is the image of my mother’s face. As she hangs up the phone, I already know the news was not what we had expected. Bursting into tears, my mother sobs as my father holds her, tears clouding his own eyes. The diagnosis is ductal carcinoma in situ, a form of breast cancer. The perfect weather contrasts with one of the most excruciating days of my life. The day is my mother's 50th birthday.

Death is the final chapter of our story. Chapter 18 of our text describes it as a permanent break where our experiences come to an end; we leave family and friends behind as well as any unfinished business to enter the unknown. Although, I believe, as for Christians, death is when our life truly begins. Death, for me, means entering the glorious Kingdom and finally meeting my Maker. American contemporary Christian music band, MercyMe, wrote a song called I Can Only Imagine, which talks about ways we might act when coming face-to-face with Christ. When I think of dying, I think of the lyrics to this song.

I opened my eyes and when I brushed my hand over my head I noticed blood on my fingers. The window next to me was completely shattered as if it was shot by a machine gun. I could feel pieces of glass covering my feet and seeing a drop of blood drip down from my head down to my lap. I looked up and saw a large police officer standing over me looking through the window. “Son, are you okay?” he said anxiously. I turned and stared at him saying “Where’s Katelyn?” The policeman glanced over to an ambulance next to the now totaled 1997 Mercury Sable. He saw the fear behind my eyes when I looked over at the ambulance and reassured me that she was going to be fine. I began to make my way out of the car and began to see the wreckage. The car lined up in front of are’s was less damaged and seemed to be in better shape. The area was still cloaked with glass and pieces of debris. The officer helped me over to the ambulance and paramedics rushed to my attention and started to treat my cuts. I felt woozy and very out of it, but luckily I was able to see my sister who was a little bit more banged up then me. She suffered a fractured wrist and a mild concussion from the impact but these injuries were nothing compared to what could've happened.