My church has this tradition of making Valentine’s Day cards for members who were older. When I was 6 I was randomly selected to make one for a man named Jim. He was so appreciative that he wrote me a thank you card. My dad introduced me to him one Sunday and he still was so grateful for my card. Well, when the next Valentine’s rolled around I knew that I wanted to make a card for Jim. I ended up making Valentine’s cards for him for four years. I am 19 years old. In my lifetime I have witnessed both birth and death. Both experiences are filled with grace and emotion. The first experience I had with death was when I was 10. It was in that fourth year when I was told that Jim had died. I was saddened by the news but I kept living my life. I went to his visitation and one of relatives asked me if I was the girl who had made him the Valentine’s Day cards. I said that I was and she brought me over to the side and gave me an egg shaped stone that had belonged to Jim. She told me that Jim was extremely grateful for my cards and had wanted me to have something to remember him and our friendship. I didn’t really know much about death. I just knew that he was no longer alive and I wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. It was a small ripple in my life then that I grew to understand as greatly significant.
According to WebMD and a lot of other people there are five stages of grief: denial, bargaining, depression, anger, and acceptance. The key thing is that people don’t have to experience these in that order or even all of them. There is no right way to grieve. Everyone has their own way that they grieve for a loved one. Some experience it before the death and some after. One thing that is universal about grieving and death is that it sucks.
It wasn’t until later that I gathered more of an understanding of death, after attending a growing number of memorials and funerals in support of my friends. I would go and express sympathy for my friends and their families. I would say “I’m sorry for your loss,” or “my condolences to you and your family." That’s the standard right? But I wasn’t able to feel the loss that they felt until my grandmother passed away.
Four years ago I had the tables turned on me when my grandma died. I was 15 and a sophomore in high school. My grandma in her later years had increasing moments of being confused. When I would go out to visit her and my grandpa she would ask me about school and my life and I would answer and she would ask me again a few more times during the visit. I would repeat my answer for the most part but sometimes I would mix it up and reply with something completely wild. She would laugh and I would laugh. By the end of it we wouldn’t know why we were laughing. In the spring of 2012 my grandma fell and broke her hip or broke her hip and fell. She went to a rehabilitation care unit, did the rehab and then came home.Things were looking up. She was gaining her strength back. Then as if a switch inside of her flipped she was dying. She wasn’t eating. She would forget to take her medications. She needed more care than my grandpa (who was in a wheelchair) could provide so my mom took family leave from work and helped to take care of her ailing mother. During this time I was aware of what was happening to my grandma but I still had school and had to keep living my life.
On November 4th my grandpa went to check on my grandma whom was taking a nap, he realized that she was not breathing. Immediately he called for help. Paramedics ended up coming and was giving her CPR and had intubated her all while my grandpa was saying stop, this is not what she wants. My grandma had a health care directive filled out but through the chaos my grandpa couldn’t find the signed copy. When the paramedics did all they could and had declared her no longer living, they left. My grandma’s body still on the floor with her intubated. My mom, who is a nurse, finally decided to not wait any longer and she removed it and waited with my grandpa until someone came to collect her body.
That was it, my grandma was not alive anymore. I was at a meeting for a church function at the time. My dad picked me up and had told me what had happened on the way home. What was 15 minutes felt like hours. When I got home I went to my crying mom and just held her while we cried together. There is something truly magical about the bond between a mother and her child and child to mother. I was crying not only because I had lost my grandma but because my mom had lost her mother and I could not imagine myself without my mom.
Then it was the day of her funeral. The whole family gathered before the open visitation and reminisced about our mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, wife, and great-grandmother. After lunch we drove out to Green Isle for the burial of my grandma’s ashes. I watched as my mother, my cousins, her siblings, and my grandpa laid their mom and wife to rest. I would not see my grandma anymore or hear her sweet loving voice. There was a strong sense of finality in that moment.
Losing my grandmother renewed the notion of life being short in me. I spent more time visiting my grandpa, which greatly improved our relationship and gave me more memories. I learned to cherish every moment together, with the realization that it would not last forever.
My most recent experience with death was the passing of my grandpa. This only happened a few weeks ago. Around the ending of April and the beginning of May something changed inside of my grandpa. He began to feel more anxious about his health. He also started to not feel well and stopped socializing with his friends. About the middle of May my mom called my uncle to see if he could take some time off of work and come be with my grandpa. He was able to come by the start of the next week. Wednesday of that week my grandpa filled out his health care directive with my uncle, mom and me present. It was really good timing because Thursday of that week my grandpa ended up in the ER. He had been so uncomfortable that he took some pills to end his pain. It was an impulsive moment. He ended up being hospitalized Thursday evening and Friday. A lot of our family came to visit him. Aunts, uncles, cousins, my mom, sister, and me. It was clear that things were not improving. My grandpa decided that he was only going to take medications for comfort and ease of pain from then on. The doctor talked with us about the possibility of entering into hospice care and it was decided that was best. That Friday Allina hospice scrambled and got the equipment delivered that afternoon to his apartment. He was discharged that night. My mom and my uncle both stayed with him. In fact they stayed the entire time until he died. I came out Monday, Tuesday afternoon, and spent Wednesday through Friday night out there as well. Periodically, throughout the week my aunts and uncles would come out too. We started sorting stuff for Goodwill versus stuff we wanted to keep. We played Buck Euchre, which is a card game that my grandpa taught us all. We read to, talked with, and were just together with my grandpa.
Thursday night, May 19th I was on duty to give my grandpa his late and early morning medicine at 11 pm and 3:30 am. I sat with him talking to sometimes but mostly I just listened to his breathing and wondering if that breath was his last. Some people get apnea as part of the dying process, which is when they don’t breath for a period of time. It was about half a minute that he wasn’t breathing. So after every breath I would think that was his last and then he would breath again. It was a long 4 hours sitting with him. When I tagged my mom on duty I was exhausted and went and got some sleep. Friday morning it became clear that he was getting close to dying. We spent several hours sitting vigil by his bed. He laid asleep with the occasional grunt or sigh. I went in to say goodbye to my grandpa rubbing elbows, which is what we all did with him as a sign of affection and I told him, “I love you and I will see you later.” I was leaving for my cousin’s daughter’s birthday party around 5. When I arrived back to his apartment roughly 9 o’clock as soon as I walked in I knew something had happened. I walked by his room and saw him lying completely still and I knew, his soul had left his body. I asked my mom what had happened. She said that they had pizza around 7 and she told him that they would be in the kitchen eating for 15 minutes. When they were done they checked in on him and he had died.
My mom, my aunt TD, my uncle John and I sat around his body telling stories, crying and even laughing a little while we waited for the funeral home person to come for him. I was sitting by his left side with my hand on his heart. I could feel my heart pounding so loudly with the absence of his. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I couldn’t stop them. I had a pit in my stomach and my mind was trying so desperately to grasp what was happening. The person from Dingman Funeral Home came and we moved his body onto a gurney then we wrapped him up in a quilted blanket. And that was the last time that I saw him.
The funeral was at the same church that my grandma’s funeral was at. I read Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. It has become a favorite of mine that reminds me of both of my grandparents. I was sonervous reading hoping that I wouldn’t break down or be unable to even read it. But I didn’t, I read it with grace and poise, or so I’m told. We went to Green Isle and buried his ashes next to my grandma’s. We prayed, talked, and blew bubbles. After my grandpa was buried we walked around the plots and saw where some of my grandparent’s relatives were buried. We said goodbye to our Fafa, our Dando, our grandpa, and our great-grandpa.
One of the hardest things about life is that death is a part of it. It is a natural part of life and yet we seem to avoid it until it directly impacts us. Having sympathy for someone who is dealing with loss is painless compared to having true empathy for their loss. When you have suffered a loss, it gives you common ground to help with the healing and grieving process. There are many things that have to be done in regards to having someone close to you dying. The affair of death is a difficult road for all parties involved, that is not new information but you can’t really understand it until you have lived through it. So much is circumstantial to the individual who is dying. The length of time it takes, how aware they are, illnesses, their level of consciousness, and the uncertainty of it all. All deaths are sad and difficult, but some can be excruciating to live through and sometimes it is easier to handle. It also depends on how close you are to the person dying and how involved you are in their care taking. We need to talk about death, to make it okay to grieve with our friends, family, community, and the world.
According to WebMD and a lot of other people there are five stages of grief: denial, bargaining, depression, anger, and acceptance. The key thing is that people don’t have to experience these in that order or even all of them. There is no right way to grieve. Everyone has their own way that they grieve for a loved one. Some experience it before the death and some after. One thing that is universal about grieving and death is that it sucks.
It wasn’t until later that I gathered more of an understanding of death, after attending a growing number of memorials and funerals in support of my friends. I would go and express sympathy for my friends and their families. I would say “I’m sorry for your loss,” or “my condolences to you and your family." That’s the standard right? But I wasn’t able to feel the loss that they felt until my grandmother passed away.
Four years ago I had the tables turned on me when my grandma died. I was 15 and a sophomore in high school. My grandma in her later years had increasing moments of being confused. When I would go out to visit her and my grandpa she would ask me about school and my life and I would answer and she would ask me again a few more times during the visit. I would repeat my answer for the most part but sometimes I would mix it up and reply with something completely wild. She would laugh and I would laugh. By the end of it we wouldn’t know why we were laughing. In the spring of 2012 my grandma fell and broke her hip or broke her hip and fell. She went to a rehabilitation care unit, did the rehab and then came home.Things were looking up. She was gaining her strength back. Then as if a switch inside of her flipped she was dying. She wasn’t eating. She would forget to take her medications. She needed more care than my grandpa (who was in a wheelchair) could provide so my mom took family leave from work and helped to take care of her ailing mother. During this time I was aware of what was happening to my grandma but I still had school and had to keep living my life.
On November 4th my grandpa went to check on my grandma whom was taking a nap, he realized that she was not breathing. Immediately he called for help. Paramedics ended up coming and was giving her CPR and had intubated her all while my grandpa was saying stop, this is not what she wants. My grandma had a health care directive filled out but through the chaos my grandpa couldn’t find the signed copy. When the paramedics did all they could and had declared her no longer living, they left. My grandma’s body still on the floor with her intubated. My mom, who is a nurse, finally decided to not wait any longer and she removed it and waited with my grandpa until someone came to collect her body.
That was it, my grandma was not alive anymore. I was at a meeting for a church function at the time. My dad picked me up and had told me what had happened on the way home. What was 15 minutes felt like hours. When I got home I went to my crying mom and just held her while we cried together. There is something truly magical about the bond between a mother and her child and child to mother. I was crying not only because I had lost my grandma but because my mom had lost her mother and I could not imagine myself without my mom.
Then it was the day of her funeral. The whole family gathered before the open visitation and reminisced about our mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, wife, and great-grandmother. After lunch we drove out to Green Isle for the burial of my grandma’s ashes. I watched as my mother, my cousins, her siblings, and my grandpa laid their mom and wife to rest. I would not see my grandma anymore or hear her sweet loving voice. There was a strong sense of finality in that moment.
Losing my grandmother renewed the notion of life being short in me. I spent more time visiting my grandpa, which greatly improved our relationship and gave me more memories. I learned to cherish every moment together, with the realization that it would not last forever.
My most recent experience with death was the passing of my grandpa. This only happened a few weeks ago. Around the ending of April and the beginning of May something changed inside of my grandpa. He began to feel more anxious about his health. He also started to not feel well and stopped socializing with his friends. About the middle of May my mom called my uncle to see if he could take some time off of work and come be with my grandpa. He was able to come by the start of the next week. Wednesday of that week my grandpa filled out his health care directive with my uncle, mom and me present. It was really good timing because Thursday of that week my grandpa ended up in the ER. He had been so uncomfortable that he took some pills to end his pain. It was an impulsive moment. He ended up being hospitalized Thursday evening and Friday. A lot of our family came to visit him. Aunts, uncles, cousins, my mom, sister, and me. It was clear that things were not improving. My grandpa decided that he was only going to take medications for comfort and ease of pain from then on. The doctor talked with us about the possibility of entering into hospice care and it was decided that was best. That Friday Allina hospice scrambled and got the equipment delivered that afternoon to his apartment. He was discharged that night. My mom and my uncle both stayed with him. In fact they stayed the entire time until he died. I came out Monday, Tuesday afternoon, and spent Wednesday through Friday night out there as well. Periodically, throughout the week my aunts and uncles would come out too. We started sorting stuff for Goodwill versus stuff we wanted to keep. We played Buck Euchre, which is a card game that my grandpa taught us all. We read to, talked with, and were just together with my grandpa.
Thursday night, May 19th I was on duty to give my grandpa his late and early morning medicine at 11 pm and 3:30 am. I sat with him talking to sometimes but mostly I just listened to his breathing and wondering if that breath was his last. Some people get apnea as part of the dying process, which is when they don’t breath for a period of time. It was about half a minute that he wasn’t breathing. So after every breath I would think that was his last and then he would breath again. It was a long 4 hours sitting with him. When I tagged my mom on duty I was exhausted and went and got some sleep. Friday morning it became clear that he was getting close to dying. We spent several hours sitting vigil by his bed. He laid asleep with the occasional grunt or sigh. I went in to say goodbye to my grandpa rubbing elbows, which is what we all did with him as a sign of affection and I told him, “I love you and I will see you later.” I was leaving for my cousin’s daughter’s birthday party around 5. When I arrived back to his apartment roughly 9 o’clock as soon as I walked in I knew something had happened. I walked by his room and saw him lying completely still and I knew, his soul had left his body. I asked my mom what had happened. She said that they had pizza around 7 and she told him that they would be in the kitchen eating for 15 minutes. When they were done they checked in on him and he had died.
My mom, my aunt TD, my uncle John and I sat around his body telling stories, crying and even laughing a little while we waited for the funeral home person to come for him. I was sitting by his left side with my hand on his heart. I could feel my heart pounding so loudly with the absence of his. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I couldn’t stop them. I had a pit in my stomach and my mind was trying so desperately to grasp what was happening. The person from Dingman Funeral Home came and we moved his body onto a gurney then we wrapped him up in a quilted blanket. And that was the last time that I saw him.
The funeral was at the same church that my grandma’s funeral was at. I read Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. It has become a favorite of mine that reminds me of both of my grandparents. I was sonervous reading hoping that I wouldn’t break down or be unable to even read it. But I didn’t, I read it with grace and poise, or so I’m told. We went to Green Isle and buried his ashes next to my grandma’s. We prayed, talked, and blew bubbles. After my grandpa was buried we walked around the plots and saw where some of my grandparent’s relatives were buried. We said goodbye to our Fafa, our Dando, our grandpa, and our great-grandpa.
One of the hardest things about life is that death is a part of it. It is a natural part of life and yet we seem to avoid it until it directly impacts us. Having sympathy for someone who is dealing with loss is painless compared to having true empathy for their loss. When you have suffered a loss, it gives you common ground to help with the healing and grieving process. There are many things that have to be done in regards to having someone close to you dying. The affair of death is a difficult road for all parties involved, that is not new information but you can’t really understand it until you have lived through it. So much is circumstantial to the individual who is dying. The length of time it takes, how aware they are, illnesses, their level of consciousness, and the uncertainty of it all. All deaths are sad and difficult, but some can be excruciating to live through and sometimes it is easier to handle. It also depends on how close you are to the person dying and how involved you are in their care taking. We need to talk about death, to make it okay to grieve with our friends, family, community, and the world.
