{"id":428,"date":"2012-01-30T23:25:40","date_gmt":"2012-01-31T05:25:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/?p=428"},"modified":"2012-01-30T23:26:16","modified_gmt":"2012-01-31T05:26:16","slug":"coping-in-tragedy-school-writing-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/?p=428","title":{"rendered":"Coping in Tragedy [School Writing #3]"},"content":{"rendered":"

When I was preparing for High School, I viewed it as a new beginning; I could finally put my past behind me, and begin concentrating on schoolwork strictly. For the first six months, I was doing great; I found new friends, and my grades were relatively good, when compared to my previous years of school. Just before the turn of the 2007th<\/sup> year, my Grandmother passed away from ovarian cancer. That saying, \u201cYou never know what you have until it\u2019s gone.\u201d That saying works both in material, and in people. Death is natural, and is naturally a tough thing to deal with; my Grandmother meant a world to me \u2013 a world I\u00a0didn’t\u00a0even know existed.<\/p>\n

Marion was the centerpiece of my whole family. For every Holiday, with the exception to The Fourth of July, we would always meet at her house, and be a complete family for a few days. She would make a lunch large enough for the fifteen of us to devour, twice – a lunch and a dinner. These times are a pristine treasure in my memory bank. A house full of family is something that\u00a0didn’t\u00a0come often, and\u00a0wasn’t\u00a0appreciated to the extent -it deserved to be. My Grandmother forfeited her house to us, and we were privileged to treat it as our own. She had a heart with the capacity to contain us, and more.<\/p>\n

The last time I saw my grandmother alive was four days before her passing. The visit\u00a0wasn’t\u00a0long; she was tired and fatigued from the painkillers she was on, and my family had other plans to do for the remainder of the day. For years, I haven\u2019t forgiven myself for this day because of how the visit ended. My last words to my Grandmother, said with the upmost sincerity in my voice were, \u201cI will see you again. I love you.\u201d These words still bring a sting to my eyes and a faint feeling to my head.<\/p>\n

The nights before she died, I vividly remember everything that happened. Most of my family was in the hospital for the past forty-eight hours, because we could all see what was to come, we just weren’t exactly sure when. My family tells me the night before she died; she sat up in bed around 2:00 a.m. and said each family member\u2019s name. Marion was an extremely religious person, and through her, my family has fairly strong religious beliefs. They all agree that in the last twenty-four hours of her life, she was given to opportunity to say goodbye to each one of her family members individually. These were her last words\u2026<\/p>\n

The next day everything was quiet. She never said anything, and she didn’t really move. It seemed as though she had succumbed to the fatigue. After I got out of school, my parents asked if I wanted to go see her. I turned them down, thinking that it would be too hard to see her in such a terrible condition. Instead, I spent the day in my room on my computer, listening to music and grasping on for my own sanity. Eventually, around eight that night, my cousins decided to leave the hospital, thinking and hoping that Marion would make it through another night, and they would be back in the morning. Shortly after they departed, my father called me. \u201cIt\u2019ll be tonight\u2026 do you want me to come get you? It\u2019ll probably be in the next hour. Okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Again, I made the decision to not go and see her, for the same reasons already mentioned.<\/p>\n

About fifteen minutes after my phone call with my Dad, my Grandmother passed away. I knew it had happened before I received word from anyone telling me. I recall exactly what I was doing, and even the song I was listening to at the time. I was sitting in front of my desk, reading through Facebook, listening to \u201cMaria,\u201d by Still Remains, when I felt like something just hit me. Immediately, I just felt like my Grandmother was gone. I instantly busted out crying and questioning myself on why I wasn’t there. It wasn’t more than three minutes later my Father called to tell me what had happened at the hospital. I then decided to get taken there.<\/p>\n

Walking into the building that night was horrible; the hospital is supposed to be a place where people are safe, and everything is under control; that night was the opposite entirely. My Dad walked me through the halls, leading me to my Grandma\u2019s room, and I was crying the whole way there. Upon approaching the room, I regained my composure, and peered in. I saw all my Aunts and Uncles standing, and discussing where to go from here; my Cousins lined the walls, sitting down with the most vacant look in all their eyes, anguish had taken its toll.<\/p>\n

We were in the room for about an hour and a half. Everything stayed mostly quiet. I never fully walked into the room, because the sight of my Grandmother laying there was<\/em> too much to handle. Her body was lying down, pale as paper; a warm moist cloth covered her eyes. I asked my Father why it was there. She donated her corneas \u2013 the only thing she was able to donate.\u00a0 After the family had had enough time to grieve in the Hospital, we all went to Grandma\u2019s house to further discuss our options.<\/p>\n

Being at my Grandmother\u2019s house while she wasn’t there was an eerie feeling for me. It seemed like her home, which used to hold warmth and love for everyone within it, was colder than usual. Silence overcame everything within the house. My family sat around for an hour without saying a word. I spoke softly with my Cousins who had arrived back in town shortly after receiving their phone call. My parents had discovered a few notes wrote by Marion. These letter were her telling us how to plan and execute her funeral. Along with this note pile was a poem that she wanted read aloud at her visitation. My Grandmother had always been a very planned and organized person, to find these things, were almost foreseen.<\/p>\n

The day following her death, I returned to school. Instead of focusing on my work, my mind exploded into a million different directions, all of which disregarded school completely. I couldn’t focus on anything besides replaying the past four days in my head. Eventually, after pissing of a few teachers with my inability to concentrate, I went to the counselor\u2019s office to simmer. I repeated this process for the whole week.<\/p>\n

Everything at this time was distant, for lack of a better word. I felt as if I was living in some hollow, carved our shell of a person. I thought to myself how this couldn’t be real. I wanted to just pretend everything was normal, and that I had nothing wrong in my life. People could talk straight to me, and I wouldn’t hear anything besides some noise that sounded as if it were submerged in water. Family and music were the only things that I could really hear and understand. Everything else had a numbing kind of feeling. Even the voice inside my head had an echo.<\/p>\n

My Grandma had chosen her Grandchildren to be her pallbearers. This was a huge honor for me to have. I didn’t think I\u2019d play anything but a bystander in her funeral, so naturally I was shocked when I found out my role.<\/p>\n

The visitation went over smoothly – As smooth as a visitation could go, anyway. Many people gathered around in remembrance of Marion\u2019s life. People would cry as they saw past pictures of themselves with her. They told stories of their history with her.<\/p>\n

Grandma\u2019s coffin was surrounded by flowers that lined the wall. Seeing my entire family in tears as deep as they were, was a sight that I don\u2019t ever want to see again. That much pain\u00a0shouldn’t\u00a0have to be brought onto anyone, especially not an entire family.<\/p>\n

The next morning at 10:30, there was a church service to commemorate my Grandmother and all of her work within the church. After the service, we set out to the burial site. Riding in the hearse was a very weird thing. A small, confined area, a coffin, and six people took up all the room there was. Few words were spoken; I assume we were all preparing.<\/p>\n

We arrived at the cemetery. It was a lightly snowy day; people gathered around the site to watch us position and lower the coffin. Standing next to my cousins, watching the coffin being lowered was an interesting combination of pride and sorrow. This is the last time I will ever be this close to my Grandmother, and I didn’t take it lightly.<\/p>\n

The service got over, and my family gathered again at Marion\u2019s house. This time was only slightly more happy then the last. We all reminisced about Grandma, and all agreed that her cooking was ultimate. We continued our work with what to do with all of her belongings. Through this process, we all grew closer as a whole. Each one of us was there for the other as we all slowly healed.<\/p>\n

It took around a year, but after one night of completely breaking down under stress and depression, I decided to begin writing. The biggest thing I had to relief myself from was my final words to my Grandma. The only way I saw fit was to write to her. I wrote a letter to her explaining what I did, where I was wrong, and apologized repeatedly. Writing this letter, even though it would never physically reach her, gave me a sense a peace and tranquility. I felt like I could finally let some of the pain dissolve\u2026<\/p>\n

Looking back on those days of my life, I realize a lot of things I would do differently. I realize that I can overcome the loss of someone that close to me. Not to say I regret everything I did, because I wouldn’t know what to do differently now, but I do wish I would have been less selfish at the time, as that caused more pitiful feelings in the end.<\/p>\n

Inevitably, loss will happen again in my life. Next time, I will make better decisions. The next time I\u2019m in that position, I will see my family member, and I will try to spend as much time with them as possible to eliminate that, \u201cCould have,\u201d feeling. I will choose my words more wisely, to rid the possibility of false hopes for the person in my Grandmother\u2019s position. Most of all, I will express open-heartedly my love for this person. Coping with people who are dying, or people who have recently passed away is something that I believe shouldn’t have long lasting traumatic effects. The best way I see to eliminate that possibility is by spending as much time with them, and openly expressing who they are and what they mean to me. If it weren’t for my past with this experience, I would still probably make the wrong decision and end up repeating the cycle I had with my Grandmother. That\u00a0isn’t\u00a0something I ever want to have to go through again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I was preparing for High School, I viewed it as a new beginning; I could finally put my past behind me, and begin concentrating on schoolwork strictly. For the first six months, I was doing great; I found new friends, and my grades were relatively good, when compared to my previous years of school. [&hellip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-428","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/428","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=428"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/428\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":458,"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/428\/revisions\/458"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=428"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=428"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bloggersden.org\/blogs\/nick\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=428"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}