Questions Never Answered

January 18, 2012
By Anonymous

I sat there, confused. There was enough tears to form a river. Puffy eyes, snotty, runny noses, and face tissues was the only thing I could observe. I was too young to figure things out, but wise enough to realize that those were tears. And they certainly weren't tears of joy. Those tears were of sadness and sorrow! Well, at least that was my prediction, but I still wasn't sure. All the grown ups weren't acting like "grown-ups". I never thought grown ups cried so much. The grown-ups were acting like annoying babies that wouldn't stop hollering. I was annoyed by all the crying, so I put my hands over my ears to block the sounds of the crying adults.

I sat there, still confused. I began to try to put the pieces of puzzles together in my head. Still, nothing clicked.........Suddenly, it striked me like lightning. My great grandma was in a shiny white thing that I saw vampires lie in when they're sleeping. My brain wasn't developed enough to know that the white thing was a coffin, where dead people rest in. Her body laid there as if she were taking a nap, resting or something. But this type of rest was longer than a nap. She was resting forever!

Mom raised me with manners, so I was too afraid to blurt out questions that came across my mind. But as a child, all I wanted was answers. Unfortunately, my questions never got answered. I began to ask myself, How could she sleep through all these sounds playing in the room? (If it were me, I would have been woken up!) Another thing I wondered was Why was everyone dressed like they were going to church? It wasn't a sunday, so I didn't understand the dress code. Oh, and my most important question was How long is she going to be sleeping in the white thing?

Little did I know, my great grandma was going to sleep forever. Therefore, no matter how much noise they made by whining, hollering, sniffing, and balling, reminscing on all the moments they've shared with her, she was NEVER waking up. As a kid, death only played a role with "bad people". But, grandma wasn't considered a "bad person" so death never crossed my mind. She seemed like a good person to me. I didn't think good people were suppose to face what bad people did. "

"Bad people die and good people live", was the fantasy I lived in as a child. And I was clearly living a lie!

Grandma was a great person, but she died. Why? I don't know and probably never will. No one ever told me, nor answered my questions. I guess they thought me being five years old was too young to comprehend that such a great person came across death.

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