My freshmen year of high school started out like any other school year. I had classes, homework and tests. I had high hopes and dreams of my future. In every place I pictured I saw myself close to my family. Everything from graduating to having my own place and my first holiday dinner I saw smiling faces. It was my grandmother’s face I saw the clearest. I don’t know if it was because of my teen years coming or the uncertainty of the actions I would be taking in them. Then in April of 2005 my future change when she past away. Nan, my grandmother, was forever gone from this world.
She had been in the hospital for a while and wasn’t home long before she had her heart attack, a few days maybe. The morning I was woken up and told Nan had died the night before; my body went numb from shock. That moment was the only one I cried for her. “She’s in a better place, away from pain and sickness.” I was told by my mother as tears ran down her cheeks. I took a week off of school to help my grieving family and attend Nan’s service. Even during the service I didn’t cry. When I lay down that night I thought about what was wrong with me, but couldn’t figure it out. It kept me from sleeping as I tried to figure out my thoughts and it wasn’t until early morning hour that it hit me. I was upset, even a little mad, but I wasn’t sad.
Through the next day I continued to think about it. I thought not only of my feelings, I also thought of my grandmother. I was mad that I wouldn’t have another day with her and upset I didn’t get a chance to tell her good-bye and that I loved her. Then I remembered the night’s I spent at her house as a little girl and when I was older the days we spent talking about things deeper than most dare to today. I was close with Nan and she taught me a lot, not just about the world but also about life. She was a nurse and loved her job because she believed in helping others. When I think back I get angry with myself for being mad. I had my time with her and spent it doing whatever made us happy at the moment we were in. I knew it was these memories that I would cherish and I swore I wouldn’t let them fade.
It’s was that instant that I came to a conclusion; death doesn’t have to be final. Nan was alive in my memory, were I could see her anytime I wanted or needed. It was then I cried again, not for the loss of her but for the memories made with her. I won’t forget my grandmother or anyone I’ve been close to, family or friend, because I believe in memories.
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