Losing a family member or a friend is in no way the same as losing a favorite shirt or a pair of earrings that your grandmother gave you for communion.
Losing a family member means you lose a chunk of your heart and it cannot be replaced or filled in. In 2007, my family and I faced a major loss – major heartbreak. We suffered the slow, painful death of my aunt who was 28 years old at the time. I was only fourteen, so I am still not really sure what she was really sick with. I just remember the end. I remember the last time I ever saw her. She was so ill towards the end that we had to go in the room with medical gloves on our hands and those ridiculously large, yellow gowns on so that no germs could get to her.
I remember before she was too sick, that she promised to come home for Christmas, but then…she wasn’t there. Two weeks before Christmas, my aunt was barely buried in the ground, and my grandmother has a stroke. She was gone too. Another hole, another heartbreak.
I don’t really remember much about my grandmother because I did not get the chance to see her very often, and I was fourteen when she died. I was still a child. Children have horrible memories. Like, I cannot remember my aunt’s voice or her face. I have to rely on pictures. How sad is that?
I wish that losing a family member was the same as the death of the mythical Phoenix; they die and then rise from their own ashes. That would be so cool, and then I would not have a hole in my heart where these people used to be. I would not have to face holidays, birthdays, or barbecues without them. It’s too damn hard, and I honestly think that it gets harder every year.