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deat is a funny thing

Death is a funny thing. Not so much funny "ha-ha" but rather the kind of funny that says "I told you so". The death of a loved one is inevitable in ones lifetime, it happens to everyone. I remember thinking about death a lot after my mother would tuck me in bed at night. I'd lie there and go through little scenarios in my mind. I'd imagine my mother dieing and how terrible it would be. I'd think about my best friend suddenly losing his life and slowly convince myself that it happened and would end up crying myself to sleep. All of these thoughts were little fictional happenings in my brain that were probably not all that good to think about before I fell asleep, but a child's mind will wander.

As I got older I actually had to deal with loved ones passing away. My mom would pick up the phone as it was ringing and I didn't have to hear anything that was said to know that someone had died. My mother would inhale sharply, bite her bottom lip and bunch up her face like little kids do right before they start bawling. She hang up the phone and I'd hug her immediately to both comfort her and to hide my own face. For some reason I could never cry immediately after I heard bad news but I felt guilty that I wasn't as sad as her.


My Grandmother had been slowly deteriorating for the past five years. Old age had just hit her and everyone knew that it would soon be "her time". She still lived her life the way she always had, not letting her weakened condition stop her from the usual rantings of an old Irish woman. She'd complain about how the house was too old, or how the neighborhood was going to hell and a slew of various bigoted statements that everyone would let slide with a nervous smile.

I walked in the front door and was greeted by the same sights and scents that had always been part of visiting my grandmother's house for the past 19 years. The faded, worn green carpeting, and the 1974 Zenith television with a random western movie flashing on the screen that had always been there. Everything was the same except this time I wasn't greeted by my grandmother.

I witnessed my uncle taking care of her. He would feed her some sort of concoction that apparently was half pudding half painkillers. Every now and then he would run a comb through her hair, telling her that she looked beautiful and everything was alright. Their roles had reversed, as they will eventually for my parents and my siblings.

I knew I had to go up and see her. My father had warned me that she was in pretty bad shape and may or may not remember me. He offered to go up there with me but I quickly declined, no young man wants to cry in front of his father and I had no idea how I was going to react. He warned me once again about the shape she was in and told me that my Uncle would be there as he had been by her side for the last 7 years giving up his life t

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Approximate Word count = 1092
Approximate Pages = 4 (250 words per page double spaced)


  

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