I experienced death earlier on in life; My Aunt, Grandma and Grandpa, the priest at our church, and my biological dad. There were neighbors as well such as the farmer I worked for who was accidentally killed and even a classmate my Senior year.
My brain can’t remember dates that well and I am unsure if my Down Syndrome Aunt died before my Gandma on my biological side or vice versa. My Aunt was bedridden her last year and I remember helping to feed her. If she did not like something or didn’t want to eat, she would spit her food out or move her head to let us know. She couldn’t talk and grunted a lot, but, she was able to communicate quite well. That day she died, I remember being by her side as she quit breathing. I can still see her stomach swell and girgle. That was the first death I experienced being there when it actually occurred . I thought about how fast life can slip away and boy did I ever have some questionable poems for a God!
My Grandma was living at another of my Aunt’s home by then and she peacefully died in her sleep about the age of 91 or 92 I think. I was unable to say goodbye to her as I remember being able to tell Grandpa, her husband, goodbye. That day was basically the only memory I had of him and I really didn’t have too many of her except for the times we spent with our Kentucky cousins in her front yard playing baseball/softball. Their deaths gave me a new perspective on spending time with others instead of distancing myself. Yet, the closer I became to people, something would happen and I became afraid of getting close. I seemed to regress back to pining away and being confused.
I remember the morning we woke to hear the rectory, where our priest and two others were staying with him for a couple days, had burned and the three all died. As I spent time at the church playing the organ and praying, I grew close to our priest and he would always invite me over for a roast beef sandwich and those Girl Scout Do-Si-Does. He had a secretary and housekeeper named Marie, who happened to be a close neighbor to me, that could fix the best roast beef! I would talk to this priest about life and things and he would always know what to say to make things better. My siblings also spent time with him and I recall one day we were celebrating one of our Birthdays and he came to celebrate with us. The ice cream was extremely hard and when I went to scoop some, He happened to be in the path of a flying scoop of ice cream. It was the funniest thing because He smoothly yet very very quickly glided his head to the side to miss the hit! When he died in that fire, it was another kick in the gut and I didn’t understand! The mood for months was very somber.
I mentioned in one of my previous Stories about the farmer I worked for up the road being killed. Then, my Senior year I had a friend and classmate I rode the bus with, when I didn’t catch a ride with now my sister-in-law, die in a car accident on his way to school. That hit like a brick! How could someone our age just be gone like that? I became friends with their family and I enjoyed sitting and listening to him and remembering his chewing gum all the time. Funny the small things one remembers! I wrote a poem for his funeral service and it was put in our Senior Yearbook. I spent time with his family and helped tutor the youngest after his death. When his mom died several years later, I cherished her stories and prayed for her worries. Sometimes it takes other’s life stories to make your own seem small! I think it was the same year our classmate died, there was another boy a year or two below who died on count of drowning. Two young people dying just didn’t seem right.
I started college that fall after graduating from High School and my biological dad died of a heart attack. I only have a handful of memories about him. He was an alcoholic after serving in WW11 and had to spend time working for another family and was unable to visit very often. Just when I was at the age to understand and want to get to know him better he died. I remember going to the funeral and standing there thinking I could still see his chest move up and down. I look at the American Flag now that was folded from his casket and it brings me back to that moment. I am not sure what happened to his second wife of a few months after he died, but that was the first time meeting her and my step-siblings. After I returned to one of my classes after the funeral, one of my professors gave me a bad grade because I missed class and the paper I was working on that week was not to His “Marxism” satisfaction! I learned to be more sympathetic and sensitive for others.
