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It comes through quietly, unannounced. It moves quickly, unnoticed like a thief in the night. It doesn't hold any prejudice against anyone. Age is not a factor. It doesn't matter if you're 1, 12, 25, 46, 78, or 112, it will eventually come to get you. In all the battles it has waged, it remains undefeated and will remain that way for the rest of time. Sometimes it's associated as a black-hooded figure with a scythe. Nobody knows what happens after it strikes. If you don't know by now, I'm talking about death. March 21, 2011, death struck a member of my family once again. I'm beginning to grow tired of "it."

I had the privilege of experiencing the first 13 years of my life without so much as a threat to death occurring. There were no severe illnesses in my family and ages weren't close to reaching the 100 figure. It was December 27, 2000 that death first entered my life. I remember it distinctly because I had just come back home from the store with my mom to exchange a Christmas gift. Her father had passed away. In his battle against death, his heart lost valiantly. I didn't know how to respond. My grandfather and I weren't all that close despite the fact that we lived in the same house. He spoke Polish, I spoke English. It was only until after his passing that I realized how much I had missed out on. His adventures in the Army. Bouts in the concentration camp in Germany. Busting his ass to provide for his family. All these things I could never get from him.

The next time I experienced it was 2003. My great-grandmother missed out on her attempt to hit 100. She only made it to 93, but that's pretty old. Again, I didn't know her that well and missed out on the chance to learn about her life. It wasn't until 2008 that death hit home. My grandma, referred to as "Meema", lost her bout with colon cancer. For the rest of my life I'll regret not sending her a thank you for the money she sent me in the mail not too long before her passing. I didn't know how grave her condition was because she never made it a point to tell anyone. I really loved Meema. She was pretty great to me and my sister. Even my mom. Now I can never say anything to her again.

Just this past Monday I suffered the fourth loss of my life. My other grandmother passed on after suffering from Parkinson's Disease for more than 30 years. If you don't know what PD is, simply it's a neurological condition that causes you to lose control of muscle movement. Lately her condition got progressively worse and finally succumbed to the illness that had taken over the greater portion of her life. I can't begin to explain what it must be like to have such a disease, knowing that there is no cure. I can't. And if you had the privilege of hearing stories from me about her, you know what kind of things happened. For the most part, I tried to make them humorous and over-the-top and to an extent mocking her because I didn't know how else to express it. That was my way of coping with her disease. Did I feel bad for her? Without a doubt. Being bed-ridden for so long must be physically and emotionally draining. I'm relieved for her knowing that the suffering is over. I can only hope she's in a better place.

It's hard to believe that we live for so long only to perish. 82 years on Earth and do we only end up 6 feet under? I can sit and think about it all day, but no matter what I'll never know. Without an afterlife, that would be a bitter end to a long life. But to change the subject, death does do something for us. It brings family together like nothing else could. Not even Christmas can make a bond as strong as the death of "one of us". It's impossible. So while everyone is in mourning, the bond makes things much easier to cope with. Seeing my family everyday for the past 4 days has been very memorable and enjoyable. Seeing my cousin come home from the Marines is pretty pleasant. Everyone seems to enjoy each other's company. Why can't it be like that all the time? Family also seems to piss you off because they know what buttons to push. At a time of mourning, those buttons seem to disappear. It's sad that it takes a loss to bring everyone so close together.

And to top it all off, the support I have received from some of my friends is incredible. Word gets spread when death is involved. I made no mention of it to anybody because I'm not looking for sympathy. But to hear about it and then make the effort to see how I am doing shows genuine sincerity and care. To my friends who showed such compassion, I thank you, if you happen to be reading this. We're all at an age now where death is imminent to those close to us. I'd be pretty surprised to hear that someone I know has yet to lose somebody close to them. I've been "lucky" that I lost only those who are much older than me, yet nevertheless still close. It's times like these that I have a full appreciation for those who are still with me. It's never too late to tell someone how you really feel about them. You never want your last words with someone to be something you might end up regretting later. Take the time now to tell someone close to you how you really feel about them. Life is short.