Descriptive Essay About My Grandfather

Grandparents are the backbone of every family tree. They provide love and nourishment, and even an escape when your annoying parents are getting on your nerves. When your parents say no to junk food, they feed you chocolate chip cookies and M&Ms. Huh. That must be your grandparents. While my grandfather, Henry Malachowski, is still the backbone of the Malachowski clan, he provides me with some of life’s most essential lessons. My grandpa is someone I can depend on for his wisdom when the rest of the world’s advice is not adequate enough for me to succeed in my quests.

There have been countless influential people in my life that I’ve come across. One who was a meticulous inspiration continues to be my grandfather. My grandmother had remarried to the one I call “grandpa” when I was at the age of five, and they both took to each other’s grandchildren as their own. With my mother and me only living a mile down the road from their farmhouse out in the country, I’d spent heaps amount of time there as a child. Indeed, I had been without a father but my grandfather stepped up to the plate and had taken me under his wing and willingly played the personification of a father figure.

My grandpa was one of the most caring and understanding men that I have ever known. He always found a way to make us happy, whether he was dressing- up as Santa Claus, on Christmas Eve, or building us tree houses. His death greatly affected both my grandma and I.

From when I was young my grandfather has shaped me into the person I have become. From the time he first signed me up for hockey, and teaching me at a young age how it feels to give to people who need something more than you. He was a very smart man, if not the smartest person I have ever meet. As I was growing up it was always nice to have him around so he could help you with some of his knowledge. From the first time I went to college to now I have changed immensely, and I think a lot of the reason was because I want to be more like him. Growing old has showed me how hard he worked for where he was. The only thing I know is that if he were still alive I know he would be proud of what I have accomplished so far.

Have you ever had a hero in your life, someone that is always there for you when you need them? I did, I called him "my dad." My dad was the only person that could make me laugh when I was feeling down. My dad was that person who had so much love for his family. My dad was the person who I could call and he'd always pick up. My dad was the person who would drop everything just to help me. My dad was the biggest hero in my life and to this day, still is.

That was one of the longest nights of my life because ‘Pop’ and I had a very close relationship. We would fish and play golf all the time during the summer. I felt a huge weight on my shoulders immediately for not going to visit him in hospital. I remember wondering why my Mom sheltered me away from everything during his last weeks. I know she thought I was too young and I wouldn’t be able to handle it, but I put a lot of regret on myself for not going. I cried for hours and hours and felt alone. Only being 15 years old I had no idea what to do so I ran up to where all my friends were and they made me feel somewhat better. Although they helped at the time, the regret I was feeling was not going away anytime

A year later, we sat in the hospital watching his health deteriorate. I remember sitting in the hospital watching, and thinking I was in complete control, but having to slip away in order to pull myself together. It felt as if the floor was my family, and the cracks were my Pop. We did what any family would at that time - we stuck together more than we ever had before. My family and I sat there knowing we were about to lose one of the most influential people in our lives. As for my youngest brother, he was losing the strongest positive male role model in his life, besides me, and that truly resonated with

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 distinctly remember the weeknights at his house. Sitting upon his lap, walking down the street, getting pulled in my wagon through a park--these were things I loved doing with Grandpa. I was not just another person to him: I was the ultimate grandson, and I was special.

The next day when we went to visit him, we were put in a waiting room. What we didn’t know is that they were fighting to save his life in the ER. When we were told he had passed, my life changed forever. The walk down to see my dad for the last time was the hardest thing I ever had to do. My mom went to a rehab two weeks prior, because she had spiraled out of control with her drinking addiction. I’ve never seen her so bad, desperate for a “buzz”. My mom is no better today than she was when she left my sister and me with my aunt and uncle almost two years

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.

It wasn’t for about a week after the news that I was in the car with my dad and brother on the way to visit my grandpa at Denver General Hospital. I don’t remember distinctly but I now look back on this car ride and feel as if it had an eerie silence that was not to be broken. We arrived at the hospital at I don’t even know what time but it was certainly daytime. I walked in the door and I put on the hand sanitizer in the lobby that of which has a stench that I will forever associate with the demise of my grandfather. We walked to the elevator, pressed the button for the cancer ward, and went up just as I would for weeks to come. Arriving on the cancer ward was peculiar in that although I had no understanding for what was to come, I felt a chill like it was the one cold day in hell. The entourage and I approach the desk asking for Tom Degerlia, my grandfather’s room, and we meandered towards the room he was in as we eventually stepped in I finally learned that I had come to see him in a worse state than I had seen prior to this, yet the best state I would ever see him from then on. I remember he didn’t look distinctly pale but had a sickly rasp to his voice in spite of the fact that he did not avoid conversation

I think the person who has had the most profound effect on my life besides my parents is my grandfather. I never realized before how much of an effect he had on my interests and goals for the future. Years ago, he used to tell me stories about historical events and experiences he had fighting in Vietnam and my great grandfather fighting in World War 2. His vivid descriptions always made it so interesting and, in some cases, more light-hearted than what actually happened. To this day he still has more stories to tell me, and never fails to captivate my interest. In doing this, he opened my eyes to my biggest interest, history, and encouraged me to pursue this interest throughout school. I feel like it would help to give a short summary of his life and how it affected me.

I had drawn a picture for him. It was a colorful heart. It said “To Poppop, From Eva.” I set it on his chest and said a small prayer. I do not usually say prayers, so this was special for only him. I loved him with all my heart. I loved him to the moon and back. This was my families saying. I cried while saying my small prayer. After a while I finally stopped crying just to start again. When we got back to our hotel, I was given the picture I had put on my grandfather’s chest. I was a mix of anger and sadness. I still have that image to this day. I cherish it. A memory of my Poppop. We have a compartment in our home that holds his ashes. I still cry sometimes. At night so no

At just over five feet tall, she was the kind of woman that you saw on the street and knew to move out of her way. Her demeanor was strict, her hands tied with thick blue veins, criss­crossing over her thin, frail fingers.