Creative Writing: Granddad Essay

  The  screaming and angry comments are made from a personal state of mind. Parents do and go through more than what most teens could imagine. My grandfather was one. My grandfather, Jesse was a strong, emotionally and physically. Apart from all the laughs and smiles, he is one of the most adventurous men  Ive ever met. To be realistic, no one's life is perfect with only happiness. In his early years, life was pretty rough for him growing up. His life consisted of hard work. He was only human to manage through such horrible events he had to go through. Such adventures formed my grandpa into the strong man he was.

Honor the Grandmothers takes a look at four Dakota and Lakota women who offer to share the stories of their lives to the reader. It is a heartfelt look into their hardships through racism, to their ongoing battle to pass along the rich history of their ancestors while fighting poverty on the reservation.

Grandpa,my brother,and I got in the car and went to the junkyard to get a rim.When we got to the junkyard we were successful at finding the rim.So me and my grandpa went in the back to look at some cars for some spare parts we did not find any but we kept looking we had to be alert and careful for alot of broken glass and sharp object hanging off the car and on the ground.I seen more automatic cars there then i ever seen.

I cracked my eyes open, and I jolted up out of my bed. I hear the knock, and the door opens.

Thursday July 13th, 2015. I spent that beautiful summer afternoon on my back porch with one of the best grandpas anyone could ever ask for. My grandpa, grandma, mom, dad, and I treated that Thursday like it was any other. Although it was still enjoyable, I wish we made it more special. It was the last time I would ever sit with my grandpa and create memories like we used to.

I have an abundance of grotesque, yet, barely visible memories of childhood. However, no breathtaking family trips, no unique family togetherness that taught a moral lesson, no abnormal holidays. We still ate family meals together, but most often the children and adults lived in different worlds. When I needed comforting or wanted the best of both worlds, I could turn to my Grandpa.

As I walked through the door of the funeral home, the floral arrangements blurred into a sea of vivid colors. Wiping away my tears, I headed over to the collage of photographs of my grandfather. His smile seemed to transcend the image on the pictures, and for a moment, I could almost hear his laughter and see his eyes dancing as they tended to do when he told one of his famous jokes. My eyes scanned the old photographs, searching for myself amidst the images. They came to rest on a photo of Grandpa holding me in his lap when I was probably no more than four years old. The flowers surrounding me once again blended into an array of hues as I let my mind wander……

Yesterday, while in her care the beloved cat, Doodle Dee, had disappeared. For this reason, 14 years old, Olivia was petrified to see her Grandma and to announce the news. Grandma had a temper and today her grandmother, Sharon has completed a10 days stay at The Gatlin Manor Asylum following the lost her alcoholic husband Frank, a little more that 2 weeks earlier, she has been so physically and mentally drained by taking care of Franky's frail mind and body for the past 3 years that just one day after the funeral, she swallowed a dozen of her sleeping pills; life did not mean anything to her. However, thank God her visiting friend found her and did call 911.

“You don’t have to be rich to be generous” ~unknown. That the same with my grandpa, he is not rich or poor but he is generous. My grandpa also is the definition of caring. According to google the definition of caring means displaying kindness and concern for others. Every day my grandpa shows generosity to everyone.

Depending on the cancer, it may or may not be a death sentence. Many people who have cancer are held with suspense. Along with suspense come a fierce medical struggle. My thoughts and feelings are just scattered all over the place. I didn't really understand all that was going on in my life. I love to fish which keeps me active and has taught me lessons on learning even at the age I am at. I work plastering buildings which kept me on my feet, and has taught me to be flexible. I am very diligent at watching my diet and I have a schedule for exercising. So when I was told I had prostate cancer I almost didn’t believe it. I seemed to be functioning fine. So let me tell you a little bit about my cancer story. Here it goes.

I vividly remember his bright blue eyes making contact with mine, he was my grandpa and he was my role model. We did everything together, we would sneak a bite of supper without my mother knowing, he would watch me catch butterflies in the massive corn fields, and we would watch his favorite basketball team. I even remember hearing the crowd cheer, the basketball players shoes screech and my grandpa hugging me. His smell was so distinct and woodsy, even though now he’s gone I remember it to this day.

Since the beginning of time children have had parents. “Dear mother” and “Fabulous Father” has been the guiding fact that every kid grows up with, and it is more important than anyone can imagine. Everywhere dads and children work side by side, talk together, and play. Fathers are the best thing that a person could ask for. Esther Edward is the daughter of Jonathan Edward, and in her diary, she described her father and how much he meant to her. Although Esther Edward’s father, Jonathan Edward is a wonderful father, I believe that my father has him beat.

My Papa was the greatest man I have ever known. He portrayed the perfect American man: he was a Navy veteran who continued to serve his country by riding his motorcycle in the Patriot Guard. To me, he was god-like--there was no question he could not answer and no problem he could not solve. He could cook anything, build anything, do anything. His heart overflowed with selflessness. He set aside his own problems to listen to mine. He always helped his neighbors clean their yards or change their oil; he knew mechanics like an old friend. Papa would always be on the road, riding his favorite tinkered motorcycle with his Navy Veteran biker gang.

Gazing at the casket, I tried to remember anything about her that I thought was important and realized that I could not think of anything. She had attended most of the holidays at my grandma’s house, but there is not much other than that one point that I could truly think of. It was then that I reached another realization, I did not know my great-grandmother all too well. Throughout the rest of the funeral, I remembered my mother talking to me from the the years that have passed about visiting my late great-grandmother.

In the maze of suburban communities that seem to stretch for miles, lays a young city called Maple Valley. Within the confines of this civilization is a house. This house lays on the side of a looping cul-de-sac. It’s outer walls splashed with warm hues of peach and light brown which are complimented with white trim and a cream white door. The dwelling evokes a welcoming sensation as you walk towards the entrance. Softly walking on the stoney step that led towards the entrance, you rap your knuckles on the heavy wood door. With two heavy knocks, Clunk! Clunk! Suddenly you are greeted by a flash of snowy white hair, and a big smile. You could see small wrinkles at the corners, that show he laughs a lot. The man had great blue eyes that show his kind-hearted nature, and wisdom. Whom belongs to who a person i’ve looked up to all my life, my grandfather.