Personal Narrative: Life After Death

The Life After Death Since forever, I had considered funerals as times when I had to find a formal pair of black shoes and act like I knew every person that I’ve ever met. Regardless, death was brought into my eyes and into my perception of the world when my Uncle Jim died and I attended my first true funeral. Funerals were no foreign idea to twelve year old me. I had been to surprisingly more of them during my childhood than the average adult would expect. I had been to funerals of old family friends and of very distant relatives, but none where I had a strong emotional attachment. Usually, my place was to wear dark colored clothing appropriate of that time of year, because most of the funeral services included their burials, which took

He was the husband of my (Great) Aunt Helen, the aunt of my grandma. On the following Saturday, November 3, I went with my grandma to my his funeral. I brought a wristlet with Blistex Chapstick and a small package of Kleenex tissues, just in case. When I arrived, some men opened the doors for me, like usual, and I proceeded to sign my name in the book and place our card in the box. My mom and sister were coming later. I walked into the viewing room with the two rows of armchairs followed by the fold outs with navy cushions, and hugged and kissed all my family members. Although this time, I knew most of the people in the room. I went to the room with the pictures and this time I felt something different. I saw pictures of my mom, my grandma, my aunts and my uncles; their joyous memories captured in pictures. I was even in a couple of them, which was a first. While I was tucking my own token underneath the burgundy ribbon, my Aunt Helen came up behind me and pointed to a picture of Uncle Jim in a pool with a girl on his shoulders. “You know Mimi, this was always one of my favorite memories of you two together. He taught you how to swim in your grandmother’s pool, and sometimes he would lift you up onto his shoulders. He loved you girls so much.” I was almost thirteen, so these memories were being pulled from over five or six years ago, yet they suddenly felt as if they were