This is chapter to a memoir I have to right for school. I thought I'd post it here, get some feedback, and you guys could learn a bit more about me.
I remember everything clearly. The events of that day and the way a felt when it happened. After, I told myself nothing was wrong and I just kept on walking, when in my heart I knew the truth. Death is a part of life, but it was nothing like I expected.
I never really new him, my grandfather. He had had Alzheimer’s for as long as I could remember. I can remember my relatives talk about him. They would say things like he was always hardworking and on his feet moving to the next topic and I was proud of that, but, how could I. I didn’t even know him.
He died September 19, 2004, one day after my twelfth birthday. That is one reason why I will never forget that day. At the time I was just old enough to understand what was going on, what had happened. I remember the way my mother put it, “Anthony honey, your grandfather’s dead.” What was I supposed to think. I didn’t even know the guy.
I have always wondered if he tried to tell me something before his death. For years it’s rattled inside my brain. The last time I saw him I was allowed to be alone with him. He raised his hand at starred at me. For a moment I just stood there, but soon took it in my own. He mumbled something and then closed his eyes going to sleep. What did he say? Happy birthday, a warning, goodbye?
I remember the funeral being long and boring. I felt it dragged on and a lot of it was pointless. I thought those who cared should just pay their respects and it be over. Still, I felt I had a duty to stay there, for my family, so I did. It’s sad really, the way family will get together after years of not seeing each other just for a funeral. They meet again because of death.
At the time I found the whole thing to be quite odd. Many placed flowers, paid their respects, and had their heads bowed in prayer, but no one ever cried. I thought that to be the strangest thing. It was supposed to be a time of sadness, but no one shed a tear. Why? Wasn’t there supposed to be crying? People wallowing in grief and falling from despair. That’s what I thought, but I was wrong. Instead everyone stayed silent. What was death to them?
Shouldn’t I have cried? I had lost someone dear to me and yet I just stood there, not saying a word. I don’t even think I was there for him at the time. No, I was there for the ones I truly loved. Those who would truly miss him, I was there for them. For those reasons I was there, but was that the truth?
I’ve looked back at those moments and I’ve asked why? Who was he to me? Why didn’t I cry or feel sad about what I lost? It’s because I didn’t lose anyone. I’ve come to believe that if you remember someone, and never forget who they were, they will continue to live on through you. I know now what my grandfather had said. He told me to remember and to never forget him. I promise to never lose sight and keep you in my heart. I promise.
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