Originally Posted by
statro
I find that interesting, because at age 9, when my grandfather died, I completely understood what death was (at least the not-coming back part of it, if not understanding the whole concept fully). That was my first personal experience with death, so I find it strange that I understood so easily. If wonder if it was because both of my mother's parents had already passed away before I was born, so I grew up being told about them, and that they were dead, which meant they weren't here anymore. I don't particularly remember my grandpa's death as being extremely traumatic to me, but that might be because he was sick for a long time beforehand, which was the hardest part. I do remember that right after it happened, some awful kid who used to bully me all the time broke my favourite headband, and then laughed at me when I was crying, so I lied and told him that my grandfather had just given it to me before he died (total lie) so that he would feel really bad. It actually worked, and he apologized and didn't bug me for the rest of the day. I felt awful that I used his death to make someone else feel bad, though that bastard deserved to feel bad.
The only death I've ever personally witnessed was being in the room when my uncle died in the hospital. That was really shitty, and has always stayed with me, even though I wasn't particularly close to him, and it wasn't accidental or unexpected (he had lung cancer that had spread; we didn't expect him to die that day while we were there, but we it was inevitable). I mean, that is one of the only memories that is burned so well into my brain that I feel like I can literally "replay it" in vivid detail. I can't imagine witnessing something like this, or the story you told about your friend, too horrible :(