Humans are fragile beings; we are always on the edge of breaking. Like a plate sitting on the edge of the table, just a push and everything shatters. Grief pushes us. Grief breaks us and like that broken plate we will never go back to the way we were. We can pick up the pieces and glue ourselves together but the cracks will always be there.
Guilt/Depression: January 27, 2013 10:20 AM. I am sitting against the wall in my sophomore P.E class, my friends are going on and on about all the work they have to get done for their classes and how they wish high school would just end. My phone vibrates in my hand notifying me of a new Facebook message, I find this rather odd as I never actually communicate with anyone through Facebook. I unlock my phone and see that it’s a message from my cousin. I begin reading it and my heart drops to the floor, a feeling that I’m all too familiar with. My cousin tells me that earlier that day my grandmother had fallen down the stairs, hit her head and was now brain dead. I go through the rest of the school day, with my grandmother in the back of my mind. When I get home, my dad asks me if I want to say goodbye, that even though she can’t talk, she still hears me but I say no. I don’t want that to be the last conversation I ever have with her. That’s not how I want to remember her.
My grandmother, my father’s mother was one of the kindest people I have ever met. She was short, and thin and every time she would see me when I went to Mexico she would hug me like she hadn’t seen me in ten years. Whenever I think of my grandma I see her wearing a blue apron “babero” she would call it, and her green sweater. I see her standing in the kitchen trying to force me to eat even when I’ve told her I’m not hungry. I see her standing in the patio of her house burning trash and saying “Así se hacen las nubes”( that’s how clouds are made). I hear her yelling my cousin’s name “Mariana!!” because my cousin has always been a trouble maker. After her death, I felt like this was going to continue to happen, I was going to keep losing my family until I was alone. I felt guilty that being left alone was what I was concerned about. I felt guilty about my grandmother’s death. I felt that because I was so angry at God after my aunt died he decided to punish me. I felt guilty about not saying goodbye. This guilt began eating away at me until it lead me to depression. A depression that made me lose my will to keep living. I saw no point in living a life in which all you do is get hurt.Guilt tears you apart, it rips you open and turns you inside out. It convinces you that you are at fault for something that you can’t control. It crushes you even if you don’t deserve it.
