The Depressing Loss Of The Family Room

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.

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

I vividly remember that chilly night in March as I walked out of Fifer, the building my father now calls home, for the first time. I had goosebumps, but they were not from the cold I felt hit my skin. Instead, they were from the sickness in my stomach. As I got in the car, I began to cry and had to stop myself from running back inside. My entire world had turned upside-down. How could I go home without my father? How could I leave him in a nursing home, a place where he was too young and mentally fit to be confined? I had to fight the feeling that he didn’t belong. I had to remind myself of why he chose to be there, and I hated it.

The summer rain of San Luis Potosí, México, made it almost impossible to go outside and enjoy the city without getting drenched, so Abuelito, Silence, and I together in one room, enjoying our second return to our hometown. He sat on his chair and I lay on the bed, calmly looking through the family albums. Bookshelves filled with books from my mother’s and uncles’ university courses and my Abuelita’s books from her teaching years covered one wall. It remained the same ever since we moved to the United States. The same TV. The same bed sheets. The only things that changed was my grandpa’s ability to walk and me. I gained height and weight and well, he has gotten older and weaker. I have lived my whole life with him by my side but do I really

Through the angle in the screen door I saw my father who had been walking into his room wheel around on one of his rubber-booted heels and look at her with his blue eyes flashing like clearest ice beneath the snow that was his hair. His usually ruddy face was drawn and grey, reflecting the exhaustion of a man of sixty-five who had been working in those rubber boots for eleven hours on an August day, and for a fleeting moment I wondered what I would do if he killed my mother while I stood there in the porch with those three foolish mackerel in my hand. Then he turned and went into his room and the radio blared forth the next day’s weather forecast and I retreated under the noise and returned again,

Papa was 93 years old but in remarkably good shape, and death was the last thing on any of our minds. We weren’t fools; we knew that we only had a handful of years left with Papa. However, never did we think to count time in months. Never did we expect this to be our last day with Papa. In a way, however, it couldn’t have ended more fittingly. Papa passed away in the land that brought him the brightest days of his life, in the city that was entangled with his very

They filled me with the images of two invincible grandparents who were to always be the same. Fun, energetic, and strong enough to carry me through any adversity. These illusions were shattered by my visit back. They had aged so much in the years I was away. On the plane ride to Guangzhou, I painfully remember the anxiety I had as the plane ascended and descended. My grandmother had developed heart disease and weakly smiled through the turbulence. It was torture to see her in that state. To watch helplessly as I clutched her arm tightly, distracting her through the discomfort. From that day on, I swore to protect my grandparents. Now it was my turn to hold their hands and create a better

Bill Mize, my great grandfather, watched in awe everyday as his father did the difficult job of being a railroad conductor in the 1940s. “I was completely fascinated by my father, he worked tirelessly to provide for the family, and was an incredible man,” Bill recalls. At the young age of fourteen Bill suffered the devastating loss of his father, the man he spent most of his childhood admiring. His father died abruptly of tuberculosis at the age of fifty-nine the family was completely shocked and devastated by this loss. Without his father Bill watched everything in his once normal life quickly fall away; the family’s finances were slim to nothing and his mother could no longer support Bill and his sisters. Throughout

It’s so still here, so quiet, so peaceful. I walked past rows of gravestones as I finally approached the site where my relatives lay. To many, visiting their relatives in a cemetery can be a sad experience; I however, was happy for them, because they still gathered together as they had before. I smiled as I remembered those times, when I was but a child and I could just barely see over the table. I could hear their talking and laughter again. How warm and familiar it all was! I remembered how laughter would erupt after my father told a good joke – he was always telling jokes. I could even smell the feast my mother and aunts would cook for us, and could almost feel them slapping my hand as I tried to sneak a piece of turkey before the meal. I remembered sitting at the smaller table with my cousins and siblings, feeling as if I were too old to sit at the kid's table. I remembered feeling left out, as if the adults kept some kind of grown-up secret from me. That same feeling I felt again, as I stood there seeing them all lying as they used to sit, in those two long rows. Although I had grown to be an adult, they still seemed to keep some secret from me, one that I was not to know of yet, one that I am not ready yet to

The sun broke through the grey and breathed life into the awakening city. The woman’s eyes though opened, were empty and moved accordingly to the flock of doves that soared through the chilled air. She gazed at the beautifully choreographed dance above where delicate wings formed prominent silhouettes against the comforting rays. The ancient apple tree which only last month was a mess of unruly twigs and withered leaves had now flourish into a bounty of lively red apples that heralded the Springtime. The richness of the sanctuary generated distant and painful memories in her head like the scenes of a tragic movie. She could still picture the remorseful look in the man’s eyes during his last breath. Her father, a man of ambitions and responsibilities, was not the father to throw her into the sky and tell her how much he loved

Silence. It was too quiet for a Manhattan neighborhood. My eyes slowly opened, welcoming sunlight in, as I looked around my room, I strained my ears to catch for any sounds. I decided to get up and figure out why our usually bustling neighborhood went from noisy to quiet. Walking down the stairs, I was welcomed to a totally destroyed living area, all my furniture against the door, all my windows boarded up with multiple nails pierced into the board. Creeping towards my kitchen, all my belonging looked as though it had not been touched. Opening the oak cabinets, I noticed all my food was in place, including my box of chocolate granola bars, with four left. Grabbing one, I leaned against the counter, my eyes glancing towards the daily newspaper crumpled on the floor. Bending down

Millions of people wish there was a magic pill to stay young and healthy forever, but we all know that’s just an illusion. Many people are being compelled to depend on others for twenty four hour care as their health fails them. Taking care of people should be a privilege to caregivers and they should show the utmost respect to whom they are caring for at the time. Family members may have a hard time placing their love ones in a nursing home due to the fact that they may not receive the proper care they are entitled to. Among different people they have experienced personal problems while staying in different nursing homes. Neglect and abuse are the top problems, some residents face when they have to reside in a nursing home. There

Millions of people wish there was a magic pill to stay young and healthy forever, but we all know that’s just an illusion. Many people are being compelled to depend on others for twenty four hour care as their health fails them. Taking care of people should be a privilege to caregivers and they should show the utmost respect to whom they are caring for at the time. Family members may have a hard time placing their love ones in a nursing home due to the fact that they may not receive the proper care they are entitled to. Among different people they have experienced personal problems while staying in different nursing homes. Neglect and abuse are the top problems, some residents face when they have to reside in a nursing home. There

As people head into retirement, their age brings not only knowledge and wisdom, but also loss of energy, physical weakness and psychological changes. One day you come to your parents’ house and realize that they can no longer take care of themselves in a proper manner. You find that they become forgetful and sluggish, have difficulties with walking and balancing, get uncertain when performing once-familiar tasks, stop pursuing their hobbies and engaging in habitual activities. They are also losing weight, which means that they are not eating well. All these are the signs that your aging parent needs some extra help with their daily living tasks. However, it does not mean that they have to move to a nursing home or any other type of senior facility.

I watched another man having a mid-life crisis, pull out of the Novak car dealership across the street in a silver convertible. My uncle ran that dealership. I scanned my dad’s car lot; the cars were much older with red numbers written on the windshields, and they were Hondas rather than BMWs. Dad was having an intense phone call in the dimly lit back office. From where I sat at the desk, I could hear snippets of the conversation that filtered through the gap through the door.