11/29/2021 An Everlasting LessonAn essay by David Copperfield May 15th, 2009--a day I will never forget. On this very day my grandfather was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. To heighten the dismay, he was only given 3-6 months to live. My grandfather’s name is Ramon Saenz, and, though a great man at certain times in his life--he made a grave mistake. Ramon began drinking at around the age of 13 and finally decided to quit 34 years later, at the age of 47. Despite this profound action, the damage had already been done and he now had liver cancer at the age of 63.
At just 8 years old, this was clearly difficult news for me to hear. Two days after the diagnosis, my mother announced that the family was going to gather for dinner. We arrived at my grandmother's house in the evening, where she had prepared a delicious meal for us. My grandfather appeared slightly weaker than usual, although he still rushed to greet us when we arrived. I instantly asked, “What is going on?” and he replied “Nothing mijo, everything is great--How are you guys doing?” The rest of the evening played out in normal fashion, although in the coming months it started to cause a ripple in my life. My grandfather started to appear quite sickly and weak; he could not move around like he usually enjoyed to. This meant that we could no longer enjoy activities like playing in the park or practicing sports together. Quite the opposite occurred--he would sleep often and seldom moved around. But during the rare times that he was awake and alert, we would have meaningful conversations. Though his speech was sometimes slurred, I always understood what he was trying to tell me. The key components of our interactions usually involved regrets and family experiences. Of course, there was one thing that always stuck with me: his regrets. My grandfather quit alcohol and decided to pursue a new life through the faith of God. While he turned his life around for the better, there were many things that he could never take back. Ramon would mention “to never drink alcohol” and “never do drugs, no matter the circumstance.” I understood the gravity of what he was saying, especially because of the situation that he was currently in. I would always respond. “I won’t, I promise I won’t.” In addition to this, he would often leave me with words of wisdom and advice for the future. My grandfather would stress the importance of “staying in school” and “choosing the right crowd” because this has a deep influence on the man that you become. I always made sure to take his advice into consideration whenever I was around anyone new. Conversations related to these occurred from time to time, but not as often as I had hoped. The month of November 2009 was a puzzling--yet--joyful period of time. Six months had passed since diagnosis--yet he was still holding on. His condition had worsened, yet he was strengthening in a sense. Not in the sense that he was improving physically, but his willpower and perseverance had skyrocketed. This was admirable, and it was the main thing that fueled my positive mindset. Throughout the remainder of 2009 and the entirety of 2010, there were not very many changes in his condition. It was essentially a brutal cycle, day after day, night after night, he was just getting through the events and difficulties of every day--and every minute. My grandfather informed me about the steps that he was taking to “improve,” yet I knew deep down that he was not going to improve. He told me about the process of acupuncture, in which “tiny needles are put into your body, so tiny that you can barely feel them at all.” Further, he stressed the importance of a “healthy diet and the drinking of tea--with the use of herbs.” I thought that these suggestions were intriguing, but I did not understand how it was helping his current circumstances. He informed me that he wanted to take a “natural route to healing” rather than a strictly medical regimen. My grandfather was on medication (oxycodone and vicodin) to help with his severe, chronic pain, and he would try to hide his pain by claiming “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” Obviously, this did not cause me to worry any less about him; he was simply stating this for reassurance. Additionally, he always made sure to tell me “te quiero mucho” and “I will see you soon.” I always valued these remarks, especially because I never knew when it would be the last time that I heard them. The year of 2011 proved to be quite uneventful, until the month of August. This is when my grandfather’s condition truly declined--in a way that I did not fully expect. My family and I visited him throughout the month of August, although he could barely interact with us. Ramon was narrowly capable of taking in his necessary food and liquids, and his communication was cut down to uttering a low whisper every now and then. The final day that I visited him was on August 23, 2011. Though he was resting virtually the entire time, he made sure to mutter “love you” and “te amo”--his greatest efforts. I attempted to converse with him as much as possible--but to no avail. Despite this, I kept informing him about the events of my life and told him numerous times “I love you, abuelo.” Hours later, I went home with my family and hurried to sleep shortly afterwards, with a hopeful mindset. Ramon Saenz suffered for 15 months before passing away on the gloomy night of August 23, 2011--one of the most vivid days I have ever lived in my life. Upon hearing the news, I was very disheartened. My grandfather was only given 3-6 months to live, yet he ended up surviving for 15 months. It was an extremely long and difficult process, but ultimately we knew that he was going to pass away. Initially I was confused because I did not understand the full gravity of the situation, but the experiences that I had throughout led me to achieve a greater grasp of these trying circumstances. I felt uncertain for the future throughout this entire ordeal, and this uncertainty developed as I began to learn the full details of his illness. My grandfather was one of the closest people in my life, and the only grandfather that I truly know to this day. The death of Ramon Saenz has allowed me to comprehend the severe consequences that alcohol can have on an individual's life. In addition to this, it makes me further understand the effects that the deep pattern of alcoholism in my family has had on me, as well as on the others in my family. My grandfather’s decisions did not only affect himself, it affected me--as well as my entire family (this impact continues today). In a positive light, his passing has caused me to truly cherish the importance of personal relationships--specifically family. This event has taught me how to possess strength, perseverance, and the willingness to push forward. Moreover, it has caused me to value time and realize the power of forgiveness. Life is unfairly short--for some more than others--and dwelling on the mistakes of others will get you nowhere. The death of Ramon Saenz has given rise to many of my core values, particularly the way that I value relationships and life itself. Above all, it has left me with one repeating notion--never become addicted to alcohol, because you are not only letting yourself down--you are also letting down those closest to you. Comments are closed.
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