Descriptive Essay About My Grandfather

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.

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.

I looked down at my great grandfather, lying in the coffin, he had light gray hair and a round face. I was only six at the time, but I knew what was happening, he was gone. Tears flooded my eyes, forming rivers, rolling down my cheeks. I sat down on the chair, the only thing I heard was sobs from relatives. I tried not to think about what life would be like after the funeral without him. However, I just had to think of what this change would bring. How will this affect my everyday life? What kind of relationship will I get with my great grandmother? I never had a relationship with her like I did with him. My great grandfather was very fun to be around, I liked art, but I had never even thought about doing Acrylic

A blurred figure is in my direct vision, as hushed prayers and frequent sobs filled the silence. The mood has faltered from the days early on that were so full of cheerfulness and life. Unlike that day, it was falling negatively towards an everlasting sleep for someone whom I deeply cared about. Safoe Watson Jr was lying against a hospital bed that had been planted within his own home more than a couple of days before that day, breathing slower and slower every few minutes. I stood there, next to my younger sibling, reminiscing in memories to past the time. Not only did those memories overwhelm me, but the gut punching feeling of guilty and regret hit me, feeling as if it knocked me out of breath. The regret lingers, thinking of my young years whilst in my grandpa’s long, well-lived life. My thumbs fumbled and played together as time continued to pass, and as I continued to drown myself in unwelcomed self-pity, I remember.

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……

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.

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.

My grandfather was an extraordinary man. He seemed to know exactly how to reach everyone on a personal level that was around him. This caused me to view him as larger than life as a child. He was the true adventurous type, and he had been that way since he was a child, at least that is what I assume due to his remarkable stories he told about himself as a young boy. He was the type of man that was so full of life that you could never imagine that life ever leaving him.

Staring out the window at the black cat crossing the street, I look back at that calm November morning that I lost my grandfather. As I rode my bike to school, I felt a slight breeze tugging me off track. As I glanced around my surroundings, I see a black cat, who scurried in front of my bike. I continued down the path without knowing what would occur the following days. After one life ended, this one changed forever. My life went on a ride of emotions through family events, sports outings, and our family business.

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.

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.

“I can’t believe that’s true!” I exclaimed, my laughter echoing through the room. My grandpa and I had been chatting on the phone for the past half an hour. You would imagine a man his age would be boring and dull. However, he was quite the joker. At least with me, since I was, of course, his favorite granddaughter.