In every childhood there are many events that are memorable and influential because memories are a part of life. Without them life would be meaningless because we have no memories to hold on too. My most memorable childhood took place when I was about eight years old. I never imagined how my grandfather’s death would hold the most memorable event in my childhood but somehow it has.
My grandfather died of the age of fifty four. He was everything to me and I adored him completely. I came to the point depression was all I knew anymore. The doctors had gave him a three year flu shot that following morning, then changed his Zocor to 40mg and his cholesterol to 80mg. That following evening he had an immediate allergic reaction. My grandma then drove him to the hospital, got to South Cumberland; he looked over at my grandmother and said, “Well honey, I love you anyways.” He immediately fallen face first to the dashboard. My grandfather was going into seizures and strokes.
I remember going into the hospital and seeing him hooked up to monitors and IVs. All I could ask my self was, why? My grandma had tried so many times to get me to hug him, but I just could not. My emotions were so mixed up, I did not if I was coming or going. This whole scenario was all new for me, but all I knew what to do at the time was just pray. I prayed my grandpa would regain his healthy and would be his jolly good self again. I got to the point I felt it was my fault. I thought God was punishing me for being so selfish and self-centered in life to take the person who meant the most to me away.
The Saturday following the doctors came and told my grandma that he was not going to make it this go around. My grandma then asked the doctors if he could be brought home to die. I remember it like it was yesterday them cleaning the living room out so his hospital bed could be set up. The last time I seen my him smile was that night, the sparkle in his eyes, to the grin from ear to ear, I will...
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