Personal Narrative: When Death Feels Like Relief

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.

The leather feels cold under my fingertips as I sit on our living room couch. My feet are propped up on the small coffee table, banging together lightly in boredom. Mom sits with me, our shoulders barely touching. It's only been twelve hours since I found Laura in the alley and the police already want to put us into protective custody. I don't want to go, but there is nothing tying me here anymore. Laura's gone.

It was a fresh, cold evening on a wednesday afternoon during the legendary Cinco de Mayo celebration at Mexico. My family and I were in the living room finishing up a minor snack while Cory, my sister, was upstairs reading a book for her 11th grade of high school. The house was a real beauty, decorated with state of the art furniture, appliances and perfect symmetry. I had just finished washing my dish when Cory hollered,”Gonz come here,” she had called me to help her hold her small paper project she was doing. As I walked into her room, I could see her perfect curly hair going down her back, with her big round, sugary eyes impatiently waiting for me to get there. She would always spend time with me in my good and even bad days.

She watched him leave and climb atop his bike. He started it with minimal effort and soon disappeared into the light of day. ‘It was him,’ she thought. All of his words so fresh in her mind, had her frozen in her place. ‘It was him.’ Three simple words that kept coming back to her. ‘He said he’d be there.’ Molly knew the ball was now in her court. She could either call the game and walk away, or she could make a play. Either was the choice was hers’. She held all the control. It’s something she wanted. Death is ineviatable. How we die is something we can decide. Normally we are all on our crash courses with destiny, barreling at speeds we can’t even begin to comprehend towards whatever has been laid out before us. There are times when we can

Illusion, one of the thing that keeps people from sometime accepting the truth. Most of the time, when a person’s illusion is shattered by the reality they go through five stage of grief. The stage of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. This five stages are pretty common to people in wide range of experiences. For example, when I first realized I had lost my phone that is sister brought me I denied the fact it was lost. I would go to sleep and dream about me waking up and finding it right under my pillow, after several attempt of power nap and waking up I got angry and frustrated then started to argue that because of someone this had happen. Later I knew I had lost it and I knew I wasn’t going to get one as a gift until I

frightened that I’d lapse, that I’d take up old ways, old habits. It was her lose as well as mine, but neither she nor Ellie could let me grieve in my own way or recover in my own time. They wanted me to move on; They knew about the five stages of grief, and I was stuck at anger. I’d accepted the tickets to the festival; I needed to get away from both of them.

I never knew fear until I lost my realm. The world we know is just one of the two realms. We live in the realm of the living. The realm of the dead is much worse. It is a realm of endless misery.

Life is a very difficult experience. Yes, you can try and make it easy but overall it does not come easy at all. You have to work towards anything you want and put yourself out there to become apart of the experience it provides.

Dying without pain and surrounded by loved ones can be a good death. I want to think this can also be a peaceful death, but it's so hard to see the peace in it when I can see the pain in others. Death affects individuals differently. I was able to accept my dad's death, even though I felt it was too soon, he was too young, and he was needed to stay here with us longer. He wanted to die at home and he did. I think his idea of his death would have been sudden, a heart attack or stroke and boom gone just like that, short and painless he’d be gone, but he was wrong. I think dying suddenly, unexpectedly, tragically or violently would not be a good death or peaceful death. The last time my dad was in the hospital, I told him he was either going

I never knew much about death. I didn’t understand what happened to someone. It was like they just disappeared into thin air, never to be heard from again. Almost like a character in one of my mystery novels. Only this time, there was no group of brothers or a crime-solving girl to look for clues and solve the case. It was probably because no one close to me has died when I was old enough to remember it. To this day, I’ve still never lost anyone very close to me.

I have finally get to get the notebook so that i could read it at the Funeral. Our show couldn’t wait if we wanted to be on broadway we had to out her death on hold and continue the show. Now that the show has been off broadway for a while there's time to plan the funeral. Me and jackson looked through it and it really doesn't make any sense, it’s like she wanted to die.

While I've learned how to swim, I'm drowning in everything that is thrown on me. The weights drag me down deeper into the water. The water becomes more murky and it becomes harder to see the daylight above me. As more weights are put on me, the deeper I dive into the water. My arms are unable to flail around and bring myself back up. My life may seem simple and particularly easy but in truth, it's

I woke up and i got ready, brushed my teeth, got dressed for school. my dad was dropping me and my sister off at school when he got a phone call from my grandma or know as his mom. The words that came out her mouth was marve died. That was my grandpa. My grandpa was my dads step dad. He started bursting into tears. That was the first time i saw my dad crying I asked what was going on to my dad he said your grandpa died. That was the first time i saw my dad cry ever it was so surprising. My dad drove away to go see her and comfort her. He asked her if she was ok and my grandma said i'm fine.

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.