My memoir: getting over it
This article is a second draft of in-class essay that i wrote before. Actually, I tried to change the topic from the original one, but my grandfather's death, which was my most memorable(or painful) piece of a memory that I can remember right now. So I just tried to avoid repetition of the phrase 'I remeber." So it's quite similar but somewhat different.
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I remember the cloudy summer day which irritated me with its heavy humidity and pouring rain. Lying on my bed, I heard my phone vibrating on the woody desk which stood solemnly in my dull room. Call from my dad, which was frightening for me to get it in the daytime, yet the call itself was not the most frightening one. I remember my father's quivering voice talking about grandfather's death which was the death of my old friend, companion, and role-model. Being overwhelmed by the cruel fact, I experienced a real feeling of helplessness which made me even more pathetic.
I remember the backseat of my father's dark gray car, full of the whimpering and whining which even deepened my depression. The sky that day was the most tedious and apathetic sky that I remember. Isolation and abandonment oppressed me with its pressure, made me want to rely on my grandfather, who didn't exist anymore.
Arriving at the funeral, I saw my dull face reflected on the window which frightened me because I didn't expect myself to have such apathetic face. Entering the funeral, I remember the smell of white Asian candle, the small sounds that peoples cry and laugh, and the texture of my grandpa's blurry and unclear picture covered with the cloud of unpleasant guests. At the same time, the texture of the cheap and quick made suit made me feel separation from that situation, the death of my beloved one. I could feel the laughing guest's indifference toward my grand father's death. I remember nothing but the portrait of the dead who was once somebody's beloved, respected, and thanked one during their lifetime, but who was nothing more than a just corpse to them anymore. The emotions and memories got deeper and more clear as the time past, but nonetheless of my emotion, the guests were still annoying and disrespectful as I felt at that time. Staying there with the big crowd who did not sympathize with me was a burdensome task for a 10 years old kid.
After all the consequences of the painful funeral, I remember the burial site where we buried our grandfather. The moisture of the soil was cozy enough and the mist which softly covered my grandpa's coffin was a bit too much but not that annoying. After lying him down in the soil, I handled a shovel myself and buried him and my sadness besides him. Returning to home, riding the bus, I remember my face reflected on the car window, a bit more grown-up face which was ready to admit the close person's death. And I acknowledged that I overestimated myself as a grown up before, but I wasn't. That was why I could not understand the others, who admitted his death during the funeral.
But now I remember, I can remember their tears hidden under their smile which I tried to avoid. Being a grown up, a long way to go, but at least I think I've done one thing in my life.
I remember the backseat of my father's dark gray car, full of the whimpering and whining which even deepened my depression. The sky that day was the most tedious and apathetic sky that I remember. Isolation and abandonment oppressed me with its pressure, made me want to rely on my grandfather, who didn't exist anymore.
Arriving at the funeral, I saw my dull face reflected on the window which frightened me because I didn't expect myself to have such apathetic face. Entering the funeral, I remember the smell of white Asian candle, the small sounds that peoples cry and laugh, and the texture of my grandpa's blurry and unclear picture covered with the cloud of unpleasant guests. At the same time, the texture of the cheap and quick made suit made me feel separation from that situation, the death of my beloved one. I could feel the laughing guest's indifference toward my grand father's death. I remember nothing but the portrait of the dead who was once somebody's beloved, respected, and thanked one during their lifetime, but who was nothing more than a just corpse to them anymore. The emotions and memories got deeper and more clear as the time past, but nonetheless of my emotion, the guests were still annoying and disrespectful as I felt at that time. Staying there with the big crowd who did not sympathize with me was a burdensome task for a 10 years old kid.
After all the consequences of the painful funeral, I remember the burial site where we buried our grandfather. The moisture of the soil was cozy enough and the mist which softly covered my grandpa's coffin was a bit too much but not that annoying. After lying him down in the soil, I handled a shovel myself and buried him and my sadness besides him. Returning to home, riding the bus, I remember my face reflected on the car window, a bit more grown-up face which was ready to admit the close person's death. And I acknowledged that I overestimated myself as a grown up before, but I wasn't. That was why I could not understand the others, who admitted his death during the funeral.
But now I remember, I can remember their tears hidden under their smile which I tried to avoid. Being a grown up, a long way to go, but at least I think I've done one thing in my life.
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| Typical car window just like the one that reflected my face |
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| Me and my sister in 2010. In my Grandpa's Farm. |
I think it's very interesting(without a happy connotation) that we both wrote about the death of a loved one, and it seems that Last Days are similar- regrettable skies(no matter what the weather), ominous phone calls, tears, etc. But I never stopped to think that the irritating people--who just didn't seem to understand what it was like for me--weren't just faking smiles and making easy consolations. I found it very..impressing? that one could think of it that way. And I guess it's true.
ReplyDeleteLovely essay. Very touching and well illustrated.
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