Death Story #2


Today marks a year since my grandmother passed away. She was the last of my grandparents and perhaps the death that really tore me apart. She was the glue to the family, and I firmly believe our hearts were powered by hers.

By frank wouters (Flickr) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

My grandmother was the nicest person I’ve ever met in my life, and everyone whom met her says the same thing. I often referred to her as my second mother because she assumed that motherly figure role that helped comfort me when my mother passed away. I can remember her always making me food, even when I wasn’t hungry. I often was picky about how I liked certain foods cooked too, such as my grilled cheese being cooked in a toaster, and not the stove. She remembered every time though!  Cookies and other junk food were always supplied, and she thought she could beef me up, but my metabolism never allowed that. I loved when we played Rummy 500, and I’m so glad the last time we ever played, she won. She went out on top in the game she taught me to love, and I don’t think there was ever a dull moment playing with her. I loved to visit her, and I always stayed later than I should have, just because her presence. I can remember my dad calling me up to tell me to come home soon, but I often told him “just another hour”. I miss her compliments as well, I mean she did call me “Guapo” (handsome in Spanish). She definitely knew how boost your self-esteem, and I can’t remember us ever being angry at each other. It was all smiles with her, and she was so easy-going.

She was blessed with great health for a long time, until she needed surgery on her aortic valve. She made it through that surgery, but it drained her. Often getting shortness of breath, or just having no energy to do much, she more or less was contained to her house. But, she made it out a few times, especially for the holidays. A few years after her surgery, she than began to lose her memory. It was one of the saddest thing I experienced. She would ask you the same question a few times, in only a span of five minutes. But oddly, she would remember stories back in the day, especially how she met her husband. I loved her stories too, and it was probably because anything that had to do in the past was much more interesting than now. I can see her now, in her reclining chair talking to me, with the TV at one-hundred volume. 

Thanksgiving day, not at her house anymore kills me inside often. It was all I knew growing up, and it hasn’t been easy to adjust. She made this amazing gravy, that not one person in the family did not like. It’s soooooo good! Her Swedish meatballs and Macaroni and Cheese was another of my favorites. Those were the good times, and life without her has been so difficult. Every holiday, her not being there, leaves a certain void that can’t be filled. I’m not quite sure how to overcome her death either because it was in comparison to say Martin Luther King Jr. being killed. The impact King had on the black community, was that of my grandmother having on our family. Obviously I’m not implying the magnitude of their accomplishments, but instead the importance they had on others lives.

By Promixluvr (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Perhaps one of the worst weeks of my life was seeing her, hours before she would die. Short breaths, totally inattentive, and could go at any minute. We were all in the room, at her bed, and stayed for as long as we could. The last goodbye to her, and not knowing if she could hear me, was saddening. I remember thanking her for all she did for me, although it was mostly murmuring with all the crying I was doing. She would than pass away that morning, and I can remember not sleeping the entire night just thinking about her. I often have vivid memories of that day, and it’s part of the reason I can’t fall asleep right away some nights. The day of her wake, would also be the first day at my new college. So everything just happened so quick, and it snowed that day too. I believe it was the only day it would snow in the winter of 2012 in New York, which was odd.

My grandmother was an angel, even before her death. I’m happy that I was able to take a few things from her house and implement them into mine. They will be with me forever, and I hope I can pass them on in the future. I’ll never forget her, and I credit her for shaping me as a human being. I often try to mimic her ways, but she was to dam nice too. I’d be lucky to be half of what she was, and I don’t think I’ll ever come across another woman quite as amazing as her. 

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Death Story #1


In my lifetime, I’ve witnessed more death than I could ever imagine. I have been plagued by it, and I fear for those who have it much worse than me because the feeling is unbearable. In this post I’m going to talk about my first encounter with death, and how I overcame their death with time. Now, It’s not easy speaking about this but it’s life, and everyone goes through these troubling moments.

By Tim Dawson (Flickr: Sad Lucy) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

My first encounter with death was my mother. It happened when I was seven years old, and I can remember the day like it was yesterday. Now, before my mother passed, she was in and out of the hospital for a year or two. I do recall some of the things we did together like dressing up for Halloween or having the mandatory fire and hot cocoa on Christmas Day. But, I can’t say I remember all that much. I was young, and with her in and out of the hospital, it was tough to spend quality time. I can also say I never really acknowledged the severity of her breast cancer, and I never knew that someone could die. But, I found that out the hard way when I came home from school one day, and my entire family was at my house. I thought we were having a party, but soon came to realization it wasn’t when my sisters and I were pulled into a room by my father. I can’t tell you how confused I was that day, but you can only imagine. I asked a dozen questions, until I realized that I’d never see my mother again. I instantly had the worse feeling in my stomach, and combined with tears this was one of the worse days of my life. A few days before she died, she had told me something. I didn’t put it together until after she died but it made sense.  She had told me “I’ll always be in your heart”, and I’ll never forget that. It’s something I will always cherish, and I believe it to be true because I have a strong heart.

Now, overcoming this wasn’t easy. I was depressed for a long time, and it was troubling. But I came to realize that death is a part of life, and we just have to accept reality. As long as we can remember memories, or have pictures, they will never be erased. It’s all about taking in everything they taught you as well, and making sure you carry it out. I certainly have done that to this day and I make sure that I touch every heart I come across, and I try to leave a smile on everyone’s face. I know for sure my mother would just want me to be happy, and live life. That’s what I intend to do, and I would never take that for granted. I would also like to say, cherish every moment you have with a loved one. Never take any moment for granted, and say “I Love you” to them once in awhile. It doesn’t hurt to tell someone that, more than it does to see them in a casket. Sorry to be blunt about that but it’s true. I’ll share more stories of my life, in later posts. Thanks for reading, as always.

Anger


First off, Happy New Year to everybody, and I wish everyone the best. May this year be full of life for you! 

Author: Holger Thölking

Now to my blog topic, Anger. I often feel this emotion daily, and not because someone bothers me or anything, but instead the way some lives close to me panned out. Now, there is no one to blame because that’s life, and death comes with the territory. But, I feel angered that good people, people that I love, went too soon. And, just to clarify, I am not angry person at all. This emotion is just simply something that is internal. It doesn’t effect me as much externally, but it certainly hits my core. To be totally truthful, I’ve never enjoyed my birthday either because those I loved either died around my birthday, or actually on it. I always feel like I’m holding myself back from being truly happy too because I know that I shouldn’t be harping on this, but the anger inside, is too much to fight away. It’s like a demon inside of me that won’t let me go, as if I signed some contract in which I have to serve for life. 

I’m not quite sure though, how I can ever put this issue to the side. It’s at the point where it not only is a daily emotion that I go through, but it’s effected other things. My faith for one, has all but been lost as a result. I can also say pain, and tears have become something of rarity. I’ve gotten to the point on occasions where I can say I’ve become numb. I’m actually one of those guys too that don’t mind expressing their emotions. It doesn’t make you feminine to express yourself, like the majority of the world might think. You are a human, and humans express themselves. Gender should never be an issue because I can tell that when you express your emotions, it’s such a relief. You clear the air, and feel much better. It’s also just being real, and not fake. I might be tailing off my blog topic at hand, but I think you got the gist. I’ll figure something out one day to try and put this in the past, but it’s hard not be angry when you see a family photo, and half are not even around anymore. 

By Guyon Morée from Beverwijk, Netherlands (Angry tiger) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons