Man has no word for what I am feeling, today on this day my mind is laced with in a mottled coat. Could anyone get me out? Only blank stares followed, would anyone save me? Misery and pain overtake me, I kept trying to move on but deep inside agony is still there. I have to be strong for my family, how many times does an eight year old have to think that? You see the day that I’m speaking of is the funeral of my great-grandmother Nana. Though funerals are usually seen as seemingly happy occasions but this day was different. There is always that person that seems to find the good in every mishap or situation, my mom usually plays that role but on this day even she had no answer.


“The world is falling down all around me and I’m caught in the cross hairs”, ‘that’s all I could remember thinking that day. Nana always said that life is like a year and you live it in seasons sometimes its beautiful and fruitful like the spring or cold and barren winter but always know summer is coming. My reply was always, “What does that mean Nana”, and every time I got the same answer, “keep living you’ll find out.” But what kind of crap answer was that, I mean what was that lady even talking about, what exactly was she preparing me for? I was only 8 years old thinking why nothing seemed right I just couldn’t stop reminding myself not to cry. Pools of tears cascaded the sides of my face as I begin to bellow a soft sob. But as time fly by the sob progressively evolved from a moan to a groan until I become sick to my stomach.


Why all of a sudden did this woman have so much of an affect on me? Except an occasional visit I never really thought much of Nana. She was my father’s grandmother and that was, but what does that mean to me the only memory I have of her is cleaning up for her on Christmas. Or cleaning to her liking, or at least until she felt like she was pleased with the work I was completing. I have no happy memories with this woman but there I was sitting there crying my eyes out at her death bed. I guess I never really realized how much of an impact this woman truly had on me.

As my dad would say the next day was spent at my house fellowshipping with the family. “Remember me the whole room shouts” all I could do is blankly stare. Who are you and where have you been all my life? As I walked past these strangers all I could think was “It takes a funeral to show your face”. It was the day after Nana’s funeral and there they were laughing and stuffing there faces and reminiscing like they were never gone. Nana always said that “We always wait until death to give someone a flower“.

From this point on this is to known as the day of tears as I look around there is no one who I could talk to. I can remember go into the corner a wishing I could crumple up into a ball and float way. So much confusion and pain what was I supposed to do I was eight years old trying to grasp the concept of death.