The Death Of Death - Original Writing

The parents came out of Grandma’s room by one by one, bags under their eyes, makeup running down their face, and bright red noses. By that time, I could almost predict what happened. As my mom and dad approached us with their heads down, I prepared myself to hear exactly what I never wanted to hear. “The doctors are turning off the life support machine. She isn’t suffering anymore, and she will be looking over every one of you guys. She said she loves you all so much,” Mom told us while my dad didn’t hide his tears back.

That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.

Death should not be feared or mourned for if we truly loved that person then we would want only the best

It was another restless Friday afternoon in the small-town nursing home. Overworked nurses buzzed around, itching to start their weekend. “Ann,” a late-stage dementia patient, stared out her bedroom window. Her eyes focused on nothing in particular. As a hospice volunteer, I had been visiting Ann for three months. She spent our time together lost somewhere in her mind where I could never seem to reach her. I reminded Ann who I was and began one of our familiar conversation topics. As usual, she never spoke. As the visit went on, however, something changed. Ann slowly shifted her gaze toward me. I paused. She gently reached for my hand. Her hand felt weak, but her grip was firm. She looked into my eyes, and for a moment her face was clear with recognition. “You’re here,” she said. “…You are here.” She struggled to get out the words as she brought my hand to her face and kissed it. I was so touched I could not speak. For a moment, Ann connected with me. She trusted me. In that moment, I knew I had made the right choice.

“Right this way,” the nurse ahead of me was prompting me to a brightly lit hall that was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t help but be terrified by the sights and sounds around me: people chattering, machines methodically beeping, gurneys rushing past. It was my first time in a hospital and my eyes frantically searched each room looking for any trace of my father. She stopped suddenly and I turned to the bed in front of me but I could not comprehend what I saw. At such a young age, I idolized my father; I had never seen him so vulnerable. Seeing him laying in a hospital bed unconscious, surrounded by wires and tubes was like witnessing Superman encounter kryptonite. My dad’s car accident not only made him a quadriplegic, but also crippled

The common theme that I found throughout these three articles was our ability to handle the topic of death. People (at least I know I personally do this) tend to side step the topic of death. We use terms such as “passed away” or “aren’t with us anymore” in order to sugarcoat the true reality of the situation. “Die” to us just sounds so harsh and terrifying. Not only do we phrase death in certain ways, but we also tend to ignore the facts. Wolff talks about how we all know how we are going to end up: we all have subconsciously acknowledged that it is highly likely that we will end up in a hospital bed somewhere unable to remember our closest friends and family. However, we put this in the back of our mind and do not think about it. This is

In my personal opinion, I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid of the dying process. It’s undeniable that everyone will die at some point in time, so that’s no surprise. That should be expected by all. But, how you die is the tricky part. It might be a slow death, a very painful death, or it might just happen instantly with no hurting at all. It might scare some people that you could die at any moment of any day, but that doesn’t bother me. I know that most of it is out of my control, so why worry about it? Instead enjoy life and whatever happens in the end, will happen.

Writing my own obituary made me feel really uncomfortable, because thinking about my own death just really puts me in a state of depression. It makes me think death is simply the end. I am not the least bit 'afraid' of it, but I do not desire it. Not out of fear of death, but out of love of life. The only bad thing about death is no longer being alive. I don't want to ever leave my family. Not because I will miss them, I, won't I'll be dead, but because they will be sad and will miss me because I’m no longer on this Earth. I don't know how anybody could face the death of a loved one without some sadness and grief. No matter what we believe about death, we will never see that person again, no matter how long we live. We will miss them and grieve their loss. Death does not make me anxious in a hypothetical sense, but of course, since I do not want to die, risks to my life make me feel uncomfortable. I love the idea of being able to be with my friends and family to enjoy life. I wouldn’t want to think about my death because of the fact, I wouldn’t know if I’m going to heaven or hell; although I wouldn’t know. The thought of being closed up in a casket puts some type of fear in my heart, because no one is there with

I later understood that he was a stroke patient diagnosed with acute ischemic thalamic syndrome. A small hand gripped mine. As I looked down, big brown eyes met mine, staring up at me with fear. “Is my dad dying?”

Death is a sad process that each one of us goes through at some point. Sometimes death can be sudden; but, for those who know about how long they have left, death can bring add a lot of stress to an already stressful situation.

I can bet that all of us here have wrestled with death once or twice in our lives. We all know how hard it is to cope with the loss of something that we love. After, people say that they completely understand death and what it means. There are many times in my own life where I think that I have understood death. I was wrong. Sure, I have lost fish and grandparents, but the one that hurt me the most and made me truly understand is when I lost my dog.

Death has taught me a great deal about life. Death has taught me the true feeling of hurt, loss, depression and fear. The emotion of fear plagues me because I wonder if death will hurt? Will I know when I have died? What will it be like after I take my last breath? Who will or will I be someone else when I pass away? These are all of the questions I ask myself. I am quite afraid of death to say the least. Being depressed about and over death, at one point controlled my life completely. I couldn't sleep, eat, have a conversation without tears and I also had problems with my weight. To me, depression is the closest thing to death while you are breathing. I had become mentally destroyed and emotionally ruined during my depressed state. The loss

On the topic of death, a question had been made on whether immortality is preferable to dying. In Plato’s Phaedo, Socrates’ death scene, Socrates has one last philosophical conversation with his friends about what happens to the soul when it leaves the body after death. Socrates believes that the soul is immortal, meaning that it will live on even when the body does not. The themes in Phaedo are similar to those in Leo Tolstoy’s “The Death of Ivan Ilych,” which tells the story of a man named Ivan who suffers from an illness and eventually dies. At first, Ivan believes that he is living a pleasurable life; he is married with children and works as a judge, however, his illness consumes everything he thought to be good and continually suffers

I believe that we shouldn't fear death. Death is natural yet painful, but it is bound to happen one day or another. We are born but we will never know what our future will bring. The only thing that is certain is our deaths. So why fear it? Why cry of the thought of it? Throughout my life I have watched multiple people go ballistic when I mention death. People that freak out people that literally cry.

Both my parents burst through the doors, looking slightly concerned. “Mehak, why are you screaming?” My mom questioned. My eyes started to get watery, thinking of all the terrible possibilities, and I got a feeling in my gut that something was wrong. “Grandpa... H-he...w-were t-talking a-and h-he started c-coughing a-and the l-line w-went d-dead.” I stuttered, not knowing what to think. My dad flew out of the room, probably to contact my grandma about what was going on.