When did the concept of death really, truly, sink in?
 

In the spirit of Chiomara's post...

My folks split when I was 2 and I was raised by my mom and grandparents. My grandmother made the wicked witch of the west look like Mary Poppins, and unfortunately back then, my mom was following in her footsteps. I was the only boy in a female dominated environment so me and my Grandfather formed a killer bond as I was growing up. He and I were both brow beaten by his wife and my mom which made it easy to circle our wagons.

He stashed a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes in his detached garage and we would sneak out there. (No he didn't let me smoke or drink - he just let me hang out with him while he was "being bad")

He's the guy that bought me my first electric guitar (a super cheap strat copy) and amp (8" Fender tube combo - there was no SS back then)

Get woken up one morning when I was just 15 years old and mom and me rush to the hospital. He'd had a heart attack at the age of 76.

I'm walking along with the doctor and her and I hear him say, "there's nothing we could do. he's gone."

I just fell to the floor and started crying like a baby while they kept walking. I'll never forget the enormity of that massive gut punch. I was numb for weeks afterwards.

My grandfather died three years ago and I still don't feel the impact of his death. My brain still kind of thinks that I'll see him again. It's dodging reality but that's what I do. I'm sure once my parents, brother, or close friends pass it'll be different but I loved my grandfather and I only remember crying once, at the funeral, but mostly because we all walked up and said goodbye in groups and my father thanked him for being such a wonderful person to me and my brother. Something about the way he said that killed me. I haven't really thought about it deeply since then.

I thought I had accepted it until I read Denial of Death. That book really had a deep impact on me.

My mom wanted to get me out of going to my grandfather's funeral because she knew my hatred for my dad would be problematic. I was about 16 I guess. My dad was sobbing so hard and telling me the important thing was I was there for him when he was alive because after he went senile I was the only one who visited him. The truth was I didn't give a **** about his death and was relieved I didn't have to go the funeral. I didn't feel any sympathy at all for my father's loss. I really ****ing hated him.

I don't know, it's always been with me. It's an easy concept. People die and their consciousness is no longer with us. What happens to their consciousness? I don't ****ing know. Maybe a huge DMT rush enters into the brain and sends it on a seemingly endless trip. Maybe it just stops. It's really kind of pointless to worry too much about it though. Does suck knowing that everybody we ever cared for may leave us tomorrow. Or we will leave giving them the empty spot. I guess that's why so many people cling so hard to religions. They don't like the idea that they probably won't ever see the people they love again. That's my mom. She goes and sees these 'psychics' to talk to my brother and she says he says "he's real" and he was talking about Jesus. Well, according to the bible my brother would have gone to hell. He was a racist junkie. Not that being a racist junkie is actually forbidden in Christianity, but he did actively reject God and the bible does say that one will never EVER be forgiven for doing that. It's the only sin you can't be forgiven for. Maybe my mom is going crazy and getting delusion to deal with the grief. She's totally gonna lose her mind when I kill myself.

You say this a lot.

My father does a lot of video stuff (Directs documentaries and the like), well last year a friend of mine's brother committed suicide. I wasn't really close to the brother, but I thought it would be a good idea to help support my friend. Well turns out my dad was asked to create a tribute video for the family. He asked me to help out. That was probably one of the most crushing experience I have ever gone through. Looking at this kid just living life, having fun and growing up was just heartbreaking knowing what happens at the end of the photo album. Only once we reached the more recent pictures could we see the change in his demeanor. It really made me see the deaths of other family and friends in a whole new light. It helped me learn to appreciate the lives of those around me...

Damn LF

That was funny AND scary.

If we are talking about deaths that really hit us then almost a year ago my friend's Grandma died of cancer. One of the worst days of my life is sitting in that hospital room with the whole family just watching and waiting for her to die. Of all the work and effort she put into helping everybody around her she didn't deserve that. Why couldn't it have been one of her stupid ass kids instead?

Edit: I seriously almost slapped the **** out of the daughter when she started playing her victim card and complained about having to help her mom run errands. Her mom could hardly even stand because of the chemo and she's all like, "she keeps treating me like her n****r". Unappreciative welfare queen ass meth head nazi hoe. I hate most of that family.

Ja, when thinking of a response, I was uncertain of whether or not my sense of accepting or understanding death is accurate. I've certainly dwelt on it, dreamt about it, and discussed it, but that doesn't mean I've reached this goalpoint. What does it really mean to understand or accept death?

I've never had a human death affect me very much, and I'm not sure if I have a cold view of death, if they didn't mean much to me, or if the slow decline of most of those deaths served as a cushion. Seeing other people at wakes who are much more impacted by that person's death makes me sadder than their death itself. When my dog unexpectedly died while I was away from school, that was probably the hardest death I had to deal with I was numb for a while like Chula described.