Death changes everything

A creative writing exercise

Death changes everything; the mood in the room, the topic of conversation, even the color of clothing. Of course I'm used to all this, being the daughter of a mortician. I've seen more dead people than I care to talk about sometimes. It all started when I was nine, when my great grandfather died. He died of old age; just couldn't hold on anymore. I had heard my mom talking about how he had been ready to go. He had been waiting for so long, been waiting for the day where he would leave this world and be reunited with my grandmother, who died when I was three. 

My father's the best mortician in the whole county; people, sometimes, come from over 50 miles to have him perform their loved ones service. My job, at first, was helping set out all the chairs. As I got older though, I was given more responsibilities, it felt good to be able to help more. I had always wondered what my mom thought when my dad first told her what he did for a living; what an interesting first date that must've been. I wondered---was she surprised, disgusted....maybe she laughed, I never found out. 

Death changes everything; especially when it's you yourself that has to deal with it. The summer after my 13th birthday my family and I found out I had cancer. I hadn't been feeling good whatsoever, was always sick. I'll never forget the look on that doctor's face when she gave us the news. My mom had started sobbing and asking what we could do, my dad just listened intensely to the doctor and me----I was in SHOCK! The doctor said we could do radiation treatments, to see if it would get rid of enough of the cancer so the doctor could then take the rest out with surgery. I was so scared, I had never had anything like this done before, the most that had ever happened to me was I broke my arm when I was 10 but never needed surgery.

By the time I was 14 1/2 I had been through 30 radiation treatments! Two weeks before my 15th birthday I received the amazing news that I was in remission, which meant the cancer was gone, the doctor hadnt even done surgery, but this meant it could come back at any moment. I spent the next 18 months living life to the fullest! My family and I went on so many trips I had to start a scrapbook just to keep track of them all. 

My dad continued doing services but he did them differently now. Before he just did the same thing over and over again; same quotes same words almost, he had a system. But now he had a different take on how death changes everything. My father once told me that a funeral is all about respect for the deceased and their family; from the time they arrive to the funeral home, to the time they're buried, its nothing but respect. My family had a better sense of that respect since learning about my condition. We all had this unspoken fear that the cancer would come back but we tried not to dwell on it. I continued helping with service, did good in school, and even began volunteering at the hospital I had gone to. I spent most of my time with the kids who had cancer. These kids weren't allowed to leave, so every day after school, I'd come and either read to them or play games.

Death changed everything; even how differently you see things. A little girl named Molly, who I had been spending alot of time with, had taken a turn for the worst. She had been placed on a respirator and couldn't really move. I spent her last two weeks holding her hand, reading her favorite books over and over again, even drawing her pictures. My dad did her service and he let me say something on her behalf. I never thought I could cry so hard. I put her books, my pictures, and the teddy bear that always seemed to be attached to her hip in her casket with her. She looked so peaceful; I remembered having the biggest urge to try and wake her up, she just looked like she was sleeping, not like she had taken her last breath. 

Just before I turned 16, I learned once again I had cancer, it was back! I dealt with it better this time, was better prepared for what was to come. That was until the doctor told me something that shook me to my core; she told my parent and I that this time my cancer wasn't gonna go away. no mattered what they did. I was going to die. My mom cried until she finally dozed off in the chair next to my bed. My dad sat on the other side of me, he hadnt uttered a word, his eyes locked on the floor, and me----I hadn't said a word either. How does one speak after hearing news like that? 

I spent my last 6 months in that hospital. My dad had left and come back so many times and told me what I missed. I kept thinking to myself that I wouldn't see the funeral home again; that the next time I'd be there, I'd be the one in the casket with all eyes on me. My parents had picked out a nice casket for me; one with a nice satin pillow and a soft lining. My dad said, through hysterical sobs, that he wanted me to be comfortable. I started to cry when he said it, not because I was afraid of dying, but because they still wanted me comfortable even after I left them. 

I died on June 8th; the last thing I remember was my parents smiling at me with tears in their eyes. They knew I was ready, I had become so weak. They kept telling me that it was alright to let go, that they would be with me soon and to wait for them. They must've told me a thousand times that they loved me more than anything and that they would miss me so much. 

Death changed everything; relationships, how one person can make you see things differently, the way someone lives their life, as if every moment was their last, or even something as simple as the color of ones clothes.     

Reviews

[Adriancito Lupus Centen..]

Well done¡

I have read your text from the beginning to the end, after this, I am thinking on it because is pretty reflexive.

More than a message from beyond the grave, really bigger than a billboard that is telling us "Enjoy Life"