Personal Narrative: Stuck In The Webs Of Sympathy

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Stuck in the Webs of Sympathy Many beautiful family memories are captured in heart-warming photos of children playing in the sand at the beach, crazy uncles making silly faces at the camera, or Grandma embracing her beloved grandchildren. These memories are supposed to make the entire family laugh and recall the bright moments. Sitting on the couch recalling memories from photos with my family is not an experience like so. It is rather a tear jerking, dark recollection of events that shredded our lives apart. Some of the most vivid memories of my grandfather were captured on camera within his last six painful, agonizing months. As humans, we never want to accept that those we love will die, even if we are specifically told it will happen …show more content…
While frantically searching through photos to use in a slideshow for the funeral, we found it difficult to find pictures of the entire family together. Reflecting on this made us realize that we focused too much on the sour, bitter memories and not enough on making amends and cherishing the moments we had left with him. Immediately, we felt as though it was our fault and we were guilty of wasting precious time. My aunt gave birth to her first daughter, Nora, in November of 2014. Knowing that her father wouldn’t live to see the baby grow into a beautiful young girl, she broke down and admitted she regretted focusing on the arguments and disputes and not enough on what was important: making lasting memories. After much thought, I began to wonder if it was truly our responsibility to make the amends. Did our sympathy towards him make us feel inclined to forgive his malevolent words and actions? Sympathy curbed any grudges at the time of his suffering. Living in a world without him, I have realized that I do not forgive …show more content…
Love is not forced, it is built. Love cannot be built as the clock counts down to zero. What drove my grandfather to try and build love in his last days? Was it regret, fear, shame, and remorse? As soon as the sticky webs of sympathy unwound themselves from my malleable brain, I clearly saw the flaws in his method. I do not forgive him. When the ugly memories outweigh the beautiful ones, even death cannot reverse the emotional damage. Always stop to aid a dying man, but never feel obligated to accept his

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