Was it a dream?

Catherine Korb, guest writer

I became aware of death truly by the age of nine when my uncle Dave passed away… I had known of death and that people die every day, but I never realized the effect of it until that day.

In the moment, I felt almost like a ghost standing behind the glass watching my family gather around him and say their goodbyes: my mom by his head, her hand on his cheek; my granny at his side holding his hand and wiping her tears; my aunt standing at his feet watching the tube making his chest rise and fall; my uncle Dennis saying a prayer and my dad comforting my mom; my aunt and uncle Regina and Rick rushing in and standing by his side, crying and holding one another. Now, I see it as if it’s a video replaying in my head. Standing behind the glass waiting for something to happen…

Finally the doctor came in and delivered the truth.  My granny began to sob. I remember my aunt walking out shaking her head. Everyone passed me as if I wasn’t even there, lost in their sadness. The last one was my mom…She sat there crying and holding his face. A nurse came and my dad took me away to the lobby with the rest of my family where we all sat in silence.

At the time, I felt as if it was a dream. I wished it was a dream. In fact I remember waking up the next morning and sitting there quiet, almost scared to ask…My dad stepped into the hallway and looked at me. “Was it a dream?” I asked and he shook his head.  No.