by Maureen Mower

Created on: March 04, 2007   Last Updated: April 23, 2007

Death, while not a constant companion, has been a frequent visitor in my life. From grandparents to aunts and uncles, and even to my first husband - I have experienced death many times. Each time death came to my door, it came in a different way - sometimes sudden, sometimes long expected - and each time it had a different lesson to teach me.

My first experience of death came when I was 9 years old. We lived with my grandparents, and I was very close to both of them. I knew that Grandma had a "heart condition" and took medication every day for her heart. But it never occurred to me that she might die. Then one day I was eating breakfast when my grandfather called out to my mother. I heard my mother on the phone with the doctor, and then calling an ambulance. Grandma's doctor lived a couple of blocks away and still made house calls, so he got there first.

My mother tried to keep me out of the living room, but eventually I got past her while she was distracted. They had moved Grandma from her big reclining chair to a stretcher. She had an oxygen mask on, a blood pressure cuff covered her thin arm, and the doctor was listening to her chest with the stethoscope. I wanted to go over and talk to her, but with so many strangers in the house looking very busy and serious, I was afraid to go too close. They wheeled the stretcher out to the porch and down the front steps. I never saw Grandma alive again.

I really didn't understand death then. People kept telling me she was sleeping, and so I naturally kept waiting for her to "wake up". It would be a long time before I realized that she would never wake up from that long sleep. What I remember most about her death though, was seeing the way it affected my grandfather.

Grampy was a good, kind, and loving man who always laughed and made others laugh too. There was a twinkle in his eyes that never faded - until his wife of 62 years left him behind. All through the wake and funeral, he looked so lost and alone. I would go over and sit on his lap, or try to talk to him to cheer him up. He would smile for me, but even his smile had lost some of its magic.

I didn't know it then, but life was about to change for all of us. Grampy would get passed around through the other relatives (he had Alzheimer's, although then we called it "senility"), and eventually be put in a nursing home. The home we'd all shared would be sold, and for me - both of the grandparents I loved and the only home I knew would all be taken from me almost simultaneously.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• ...
• 12
• Next Page >>