Death is such a painful and emotional period for a family. It manages to withhold control of one’s emotions, and lose focus on other event’s. Everything reminds one of the person who they lost, whether it’s a building, or a song. Personally, seeing my father going through the lost of his brother haunts me, I see his tears when I think randomly of family events, and I hear his sobs whenever I see cars passing by. It’s taking a toll on him badly. I can’t stand to see it. 

He looked more disheveled than I could ever imagine. Locks, that were once jet black turned into crisp white. His eyes bags drooped from old age, and his mouth sagged. It hurt my eyes to stare at the one I once loved deeply turn so fragile. I know as time comes, we are supposed to accept our fate. That, one day we truly are going to die. Whether we want it or not. As we grow older we receive wisdom, but now all of that has gone down the drain. I can’t fathom how my life would be without my father. Growing up, my imago changed almost everyday. At times, I would picture him with no signs of aging at the age of sixty-five, other times I presume that maybe, just maybe, he would die after I do. But, seeing his bones through his skin, and watching his mouth tremble only keeps me coming back to reality. Potentially, I would accept that my father doesn’t remember me anymore, or maybe I could mature. 

-Amanda Lee