When I was 9 years old, I would go with my dad’s family every two weeks on the weekends. This time on this particular weekend, it was around the holidays. My grandma worked at Walmart and she took me to her job to go see Santa Claus. I was afraid of anything that was in a customer. So once we got to her job, my heart started to beat very fast, my anxiety started to kick in. When we got in line to see him, I started to freak out. I kept telling my grandma I don’t want to take a picture with him, I want to go home. But she instead asked me to take a picture with him. When it was our turn to take a picture with him, I started to cry more. He started to talk to me and my grandma was pushing me closer to him and he was trying to grab my hand. I accidentally smacked him, it wasn’t on purpose he let go of my hand, and smacked his own self.

 

Story edited from Monday 

When I was  8 years old, my great grandma passed away. My heart was broken, I used to take care of her when I went with my grandma to see her. We used to do everything with her and at one point my grandma had to take care of her full time because she was very sick.  When she passed away, I took it super hard and when it was time for the funeral I couldn’t bare myself to go see her body. I wanted to remember the good memories I had with her, but my grandma instead asked me to go see her body because that's what my great grandma wanted. Once I saw her body, I started to have a panic attack because I had never seen a loved one's body like that. After that I started to have a really bad nightmare about it, I knew then I couldn’t do funeral homes. I realize that funeral homes are not that bad because they are helping families that lose loved ones.