Death

I am a little confused about death… today my I went to visit my cousin Anita in the hospital… she fell down the stairs and cracked her skull and is continuing to bleed from her head. She’s on blood thinners, but had to be given a blood clotting medication to control the bleeding… sadly; her death is going to be inevitable eventually. Thing about Hispanics is we always come together when someone is in a horribly near death situation, especially when one is in the hospital. Personally I don’t think I want everyone around me my final moments in life… grant it, when they took the breathing aid out Cousin Anita’s chest she was okay. My thing is, I don’t want to be remembered in pain, and non responsive. I want people to remember how alive, witty, snappy, life embracing self I was. Today driving to the hospital, apparently it was the same hospital my Grandpa Sanchez died in. He died when I was 3 years old… but I had a strange memory jog when I looked at the characteristics of the parking garage…. Yes, all parking garages seem the same, but there was something about this one that jogged my memory. Of course at the age of 3 a child doesn’t really remember things. I have photographic images I remember of certain ages of my life. That garage was one of them. Me, mom and someone else (Tía Connie presumably) were in Bessy and I was in the backseat playing with a Polly Pocket. I asked mom if that was all correct, she said it was. I had always had that image in my mind, but never was sure of what it was. Now I know.
I’m not sure how I’m going to react when I lose someone I truly and deeply love. I cried when Steve died, because he was a sweet, funny cousin, but I wasn’t torn up about his death. I cried when Tía Susie died but only because of how she died; alone and of a heart attack. I’m going to be 22 in 7 minutes and still do not really understand death yet.