Personal Narrative Essay: Watching My Mother's Death

My senior year, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was given six months to live since she refused to take chemo and radiation. At that time, I was a teenager, recently kicked out of my house by my stepfather at the age of 16. Let me explain, I was at work, I had done nothing wrong it was my sister who he was mad at, but I paid the cost of her actions. My mother stayed there with him leaving us to our own device.

Watching my grandmother dying made me feel useless. I wanted to do so much more than just comfort her. I wanted to take all her pain away. After reading Worden’s theories and Dr. Kublet-Ross stages of grief I realized I went through a lot those stages, feelings and behaviors. I was passed the Denial stage and went straight to the Anger stage.

Out of seven billion people in the world. 333.1 million in the USA, 5.52 million in Minnesota, and 938 people in Watkins, Minnesota only one person could have changed my life like my grandma did. Monica Stanger was born on May 5th, 1943 third child of 15 kids. At this time in her life she had no clue what she would have grown up to be. She became a caring loving woman who influences everything I have and will every do.

Saylor Voss Due Date: Monday 16 Author: Cheryl Strayed Book: Wild I am interviewing Cheryl Strayed about her experiences on the Pacific Crest Trail 1. What made you decide to hike the Pacific Crest Trail? A: While my mom recently passed and I felt like I knew nothing about myself. One day I woke up and I realized my mom was my whole world was my mom and I didn’t know what I was going to do without her.

Then I was aware of nothing but the strokes of the whip. “ One...two…,” he counted. He took his time between each stroke. Only the first ones really hurt me.

Beep… Beep… Beep… Tristian Stewart’s Memorial Medical Hospital was the epitome of thousands of those little sharp “beeps” piercing their victim’s ears when they walked through the white, floor-to-wall covered hallways. Each one, echoing louder and louder as if I were one of its ghostly-pale pr prisoners escaping. Only thing that separated me from them were their long, cascading blue gowns to my choice of a snug hoodie, jeans, and torn converse. I kept focus, as I followed the directions the lady at the front desk had given me. Her snaggletooth distracted me from remembering the difference of taking a left or right at the end of the hall.

Everyone can experience grief at some point in their life, whether it’s because of the loss of their child, lover, husband, wife or even pet. Relative to grief, J.K. Rowling commented in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, “You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it” (J.K. Rowling 82). Grief is so painful and enduring that different people will deal with it through unique and individual means. In the book, Hey Nostradamus by Douglas Coupland, the movie Three Colors: Blue by Krzysztof Kieslowski, and the poem Funeral Blues” by W. H. Auden, people suffer from the loss of their beloved ones and they are overwhelmed with grief. The characters in each of these works use various methods such as self-isolation,

She was all I had left, supporting me through my failed attempts at being published. Sadness started to spill its way into my writing, filling it with death and despair. Even when my own mother had passed, along with everyone else in my life, it felt like rejection. But Virginia’s death consumes me to this day, it is agony. I feel as if people can read it on my face as clearly as if I had told them; this man is broken not brilliant.

I had sworn that I would try to be a nicer person, that I would be the best mother. I had begged and cried. She was dead. In a moment, every dream that I had for her, for myself, had died. It felt as though I had died, yet my punishment was having to live with this permanent ache in my chest that didn’t allow me to fully draw a breath.

She could not afford the combat and sorrow, descending into depression. My body was paralyzed like it had been just awakened from a deep hibernation. The feeling of loss infiltrated me. What I used to regard as vital and imperative seemed meaningless. My heart ached for

The funeral went by fast with the typical crying and mourning. I still can’t believe my mother is really gone, but I know she’ll always be with me in my heart. It’s all over I say to

I witnessed how everyone from my family unfolded their way of accepting. I watched my mother cry to herself at night just because she hadn't had the chance to say goodbye to her. I watched my uncle sit in silence the whole day, wishing nothing but for his own mother to come back. I watched our family dinner with muteness, hearing nothing but forks clicking and spoons colliding against the tingling gloomy plates, along with gloomy expressions present in everyone's faces. I watched my aunt smiling from cheek to cheek, cracking at her own joke for the sake of breaking the ice.

Losing someone you love dearly is one of the hardest things anyone can go through. Sometimes it hurts so bad that you may yourself, “What’s the point of being here anymore?” I ask myself that question all the time, ever since my Grandmother passed away. April 22nd, 2016, was a very emotional experience for my family and me. The day started off like any other day for us.

Sudden and tragic death is a reality for many individuals, so I hope to remove my current mindset as I continue to consider my own death. On the other hand, my mom teared up as we spoke about this topic. This experience made me realize how much of a profound impact my death would leave on the lives of my loved ones. This is strangely

I let grief consume me and I never let the sun rise after Emilie’s death. There were no words, no voices; only the weeping of a girl who has lost the only certainty she ever had. I cry because I regret everything, and the world is just so beautiful, I just didn’t realize that’s there is beauty behind the