Descriptive Essay About My Grandmother

My great-grandmother was raised by her mom, dad, and other relatives. She, and many cousins, were raised up as brother and sister in a close-knit family. Harriett Marshall, my great-grandmother, was born in Saltillo, Tennessee on January 7, 1931. She has lived through many trying times. It is a blessing to live through so many events that changed the nation, even the world. She has lived through the following events and many more: The Great Depression, World War II, the historic signing of Jackie Robinson, Brown v. Board of Education, the Civil Rights movement and many more.

I never knew how important my grandma was to me until she was gone. I called my grandma, Mawmaw. She was short with white hair that she would always curl with rollers in the morning. She was a widow, because my grandpa, Pa, passed away when I was five years old. The perfume she wore made her smell like Warm Vanilla Sugar from Bath and Body Works. I never thought I would have to live my life without her until the day she passed away.

I will tell you a tale of a woman of great success. This is a woman that has inspired me to be something great one day and to never give up trying. Though she may be growing into her elderly years she has lived a very challenging, joyful, loving and successful life. She is a woman of great faith and character, she is my grandmother.

Have your parents ever made you do something that you refused to do. While that happened to me once. My parents were making me go up north Michigan to go to the burial of my Great Grandma and I didn't even know her that well. I was going to miss the first practice for theater and gymnastics. To be honest, I wouldn't have gone, unless my parents had made me. And trust me they did.

No matter how stressful life gets for me or how chaotic life can become there has always been one person that I know I can turn to, my mother. She’s been a wealth of advice to call on when I’m clueless and a shoulder to cry on when I’m down. Her compassion for others inspires me to be a better person as does the guidance she has given me over the years. She’s not afraid to give me a reality check and to tell me the things I don’t want to hear even though I need to. She keeps me grounded and teaches me to appreciate the smaller things in life. Even though my father was still involved in my life after my parents split up it was my mother who I primarily lived with and it was her who had the greatest influence on my life growing up.

I remember how happy it made my great grandma, Gigi, when we visited her. I remember how one day, my mom, dad, Grandma, my brother Holden and I were visiting her, and we thought would be nice if I sang a song for her. I sang her the song that they play during baseball games, “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” because she always was a big baseball fan. I sang her the whole song, including all of the extended verses.When I finished, she was smiling, and that made me smile too. Whenever we went to my grandma Zeta’s house in Sacramento, we tried to go and see her. We would talk with her, or take her on a walk.

Every day was a struggle. Every morning, every night. Every second I would ask myself one single question would my grandpa be alright? It all started with our annual trip to California. Every summer, my family and I take a trip to Sacramento to spend time with my grandparents. We always have a good time and I can’t imagine doing anything else during my summer. Eating out, watching movies, and spending quality time with Simran and my grandparents, is overall, without a doubt, my favorite thing to do. I’ve always had a certain connection to my grandpa, or as I used to call him, my nana. I can’t explain why, but my grandpa was the shoulder I would cry on. He was the one person I could rely on to always be there, because he always was. I knew I could count on him.

My grandmother name is Carmella also known as Jamilla. But lots of people and call her Ummi. Ummi mean mother in arabic, and she is like a second mom to many as well as myself. My Grandmother is one of the most influential people in my life. My grandmother has been through so much in her life; as a child her mother suffered from mental problems and both parents had problem with substance addiction. Despite that her parents tried their hardest to stay in their children's lives. My grandmother was 1 of 5 children. When their parent could no longer care for them they were living with their grandmother and living in foster home. So her living in this situation made her grow up fast. My grandmother’s life made her tough and a hard worker. At a young age she found Islam and it change her life. She began to find light in a dark tunnel. My grandmother was stuck before and when she became a Muslim she found faith and answer to all her questions. At 16 she got married she had two kids one being my mother that marriage shortly ended and, she soon met and married my grandfather and had 3 more kids at

My grandpa was a fantastic man. His name was Ramiro Gomez. I wanted him to see me do excellent things, to see me grow to be a new person. My grandpa was a great person everyone loved him, especially me. He made everyone happy and always got the family together. His cooking was always fantastic and he always made people laugh. He loved the Dallas Cowboys, the UFC, and most of all his family.

Icy fingers gripped my arm in the darkness, I took my attention from the starry sky to look from the hand that touched me up to the face of my Grandma. She shared a kind smile with me emphasizing her rosey cheeks warming my own despite the winter snow falling around us. My little sister Sara squealed with glee as our shepherd pup Macy hopped around her, wagging her tail so fast the entire back end of her body would follow in sync. Grandma took a deep breath as she rewrapped her rope around her waist, “How does a cup of tea sound?” her voice was soft & kind, “I think it is time we all should get some rest.” I answered glancing back at sara who was still squealing with joy as she watched the pup continue to roll in the glistening pillow of snow surrounding the small patch of land we call home. She nodded in agreement and reached her arm out for me to support her inside.

Most of my family photo albums are packed with pictures of me with my grandmother. There she is, bathing me as a newborn, and there again, holding me as a little girl, a huge grin lighting up my face. Her name is Maria Luisa Lishner de Albertis, and though everyone has always called her Lucha, to me she has always been Mami. For every moment of my life, she’s been there: every single recital, ceremony, or event I’ve been a part of; all the home cooked meals she’d wake up early to cook for the family, even now that the memories of her favorite recipes have started to fade; and all those nights in high school when she’d hear me crying from her room, and come to sit at the foot of my bed and speak to me in her gruff yet so sweet voice. Mami has seen me at my worst and at my weakest, and not once has her quiet, under-appreciated love ever faltered.

Peeping through the blinds, I wave goodbye to my mom in her red, Mercedes Benz, and to my dad in his white, Toyota van, watching them go opposite directions towards work. I stumble across the couch, leaving indents from my knees, and walk into the kitchen where my grandmother stands with her familiar gray mug filled with steaming coffee and two cubes of sugar. As I walk to her side at the counter, I reach into a pink, plastic fruit basket containing ripe treasures purchased from Lion’s Supermarket. Two fruits: an apple and an orange, immediately sit upon my two hands. Shoving the round red into my grandma’s eyes, I await an answer. She squints, wrinkles deepening on her forehead, as if the apple was the challenge question on a math test. “Or...ange,” she says. I shake my head, and sound out the beginning letters of the fruit I was offering, until the word, “apple,” struggles out of her mouth. We both smile at the accomplishment as she points down at the orange and correctly states its name, confident in fashion. This calls for celebratory peeled orange and sliced sweet apple. Two weeks and two fruits, teaching my Chinese grandma some English words marks the biggest accomplishment of my first grade self.

A symbol that describes everything I want, would have to be my mom, she has been there for me since day one and have never gone anywhere, she represents: strength, love, and change to become a better person. My mom is everything I want to be as a mother, wife, and just as a person in general. I was born September 23rd 1998, my mom was born January 25th 1974. I was not a planned baby but, I know I definitely blessed my parents lives by being born. I did not grow up in the “typical home”, my parents’ divorced before I two, my dad was an alcoholic and was not around much when I was little, so it was just my mom and my grandparents raising me. I did not mind them raising me of course, I also did not know any better because, that was just how I grew up. I would say though that I had a pretty great childhood, I was always a happy child, and also a pretty good one too.

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.

My mother Christy Rehn has many great qualities that make up who she is today. First, to give a physical description; she is a female and is 44 years old about 5’5 . She has short dark brown hair that goes down to her shoulders. Her eyes are as brown as a bear and are very fast moving. One great quality is that my mom is very funny. She enjoys a good laugh when she's feeling happy or not feeling well at all. She enjoys spending time with her family. Especially, going to the movies as well as sitting out on the beach on a hot sunny day. My mom isn’t just another average person, she shares her many unique qualities that allow others to see who she really is on the inside.