Friday, February 27, 2015

In Memory of my Grandfather, Harvey Dolinsky




 Anyone that breathes in oxygen for the first time in their life, is destined to gasp for it during their last.  Life is as symbiotic to death as anatomy is to physiology.  They are intercorrelated, as one simply cannot exist without the other.  Of this we are all aware, however it never makes it easier to understand when great loss comes pounding at your door.  The death of a loved one always triggers the perplexing question that we shove to the back of our minds for the sake of sanity.  What really happens after our hearts beat for the last time and we cease to exist in our physical form?


This question bombarded my thoughts the moment I learned that my grandfather had passed away.  I have endured great pain in my lifetime, but nothing could prepare me for the sucker punch to my heart on the day of February 22nd, 2015.  This was the first time I had ever experienced losing a family member first hand.

A current of emotions brews inside of your body, as it erupts into an enormous wave that engulfs you whole, and leaves you swarming around in utter disarray.  Time appears frozen for a moment as your reality is altered into a state of disbelief.  It’s as if ice strikes your heart for a brief second leaving you paralyzingly numb.  Only when the warmth from your blood flow melts the frigid ice, does your mind finally comprehend that this person you held so dear, is no longer in our realm of physical existence.

My grandfather was an extraordinary person.  He worked very hard to earn every item he ever possessed, while unconditionally loving his family.  He was an exceedingly determined man who overcame incredible obstacles to achieve the life he envisioned.  He was a model husband, father, and grandfather.  I can only hope to find a man that can love me even a fraction of the amount my grandfather loved my grandmother.

Over the past several years, my grandfather was inflicted with the deteriorating disease of dementia.  My grandmother, aunt, and cousin worked tirelessly together to ensure his every need was met; the very same thing he had done for them.  Our family watched in horror as this once exceptionally sharp and intelligent man was now slowly losing his mind.
I will never forget the look on his face the last time I saw him in January.  His eyes lit up like stars, as his lips curled into a genuine smile; a clear indication that he knew who I was.  Although in pain, he still had his acute sense of humor and the desire to evoke laughter in those he loved most.  I had an eerie feeling in this moment, that it would be the very last time I would ever see him.

The night of his death I lay awake all night long, exploring the possibilities of what becomes of us after death.  I literally started typing into Google: what happens when we die?  I am an individual who relies heavily on evidence and facts.  I need proof to support claims, and have never been the type to dabble in overzealous fantasies.
Time is a man-made concept that ceases to exist.  It is just a word we utilize to connect the things out of our comprehension.  There is a point where the world began that is vastly unknown, but the world began somewhere nonetheless.  The law of thermodynamics states: energy can neither be created nor destroyed.  What if that applies to human existence?  What if a part of us becomes recycled into something else in this world?  Maybe heaven isn’t precisely how we perceive, but rather another dimension or universe where our energy continues to exist.

The theories and possibilities are endless.  For whatever reason, the ability to understand what really happens after death continuously evades the human mind.  The only thing I am truly certain of is that you can never lose the people you love.  Their memory is stored in the deepest reservoir of your brain.  You carry them in your heart for as long as it beats inside of your mediastinum.  Nothing can alter the impact they have had on your life.  Like our unique fingerprints, they become intricately apart of you.  My grandfather will always live on in the anatomy of those who loved him most.

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