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.

Family history is very important to me. It teaches me about my ancestors, family background, culture, heritage, and generations of traditions. By knowing where I came from, helps me have a better perspective of my life. Having a clear understanding on my family background allows me to know how deep my family’s roots are, and it brings me closer to self discovery.

My grandmother’s love is like no other. It is very peculiar but also unique in its own way. She has a strange way of showing her emotions. You’ll never see her cry or sad, she’s the strongest person in our family. My grandmother holds the family together when times are rough.

My grandma’s death wasn’t unexpected. For the past few years she’s suffered from Alzheimer’s. She was always a little "loopy", so at first no one really noticed something was wrong. Then slowly over time, things became more profound. She started walking into rooms and not remembering why she was there. Making the wrong dish for dinner. Calling one of my uncles the wrong name. Little stuff. But then pretty soon it was getting up at midnight and talking to someone who wasn 't there. Staring at blank walls for hours on end. Unable to make dinner at all. Not being able to

I have never wielded as much sorrow as I did that day. The stench of dried, salty tears thronged the room as her funeral beckoned the sadness that reached for my heart. I could hear the soul of everyone she was ever close to. My great grandmother was the beginning of this very family. My family. What is depressing most, is that she passed away 2 weeks before Christmas, the holiday that celebrates the person she idolized most…

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.

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.

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.

Life is full of difficulties that people often allow these setbacks to define who they are; however, there are a few strong-minded individuals who can take struggles in life and use them to become more determined and tenacious people. My grandmother is one of these few who can turn these unfortunate circumstances and utilize them to become a stronger person. From a tragic car crash her senior year, to having to take care of her four grandchildren by herself without much support, my grandmother, Fran Moss, has always embodied this drive to succeed regardless of the endeavors faced in her life.

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.

The year was 2015, my grandmother had been recently sick. My mother went flew to Mexico for a week to check on her in the hospital and to take care of her. I was concerned, but I did not want to think about it. I feel horrible saying that, but I just did not want to think about it, the fact that she is sick, I wanted to believe she was okay, I said it so much to myself I seemed to trick myself into believing it. ‘She’s okay, mama is going to be okay, she’s been through worse, she will be okay, she is okay’. During this week my sister has been checking up on her by calling her daily, my grandmother has gotten so bad, she couldn’t speak full on sentences. When the phone was passed to me, I never wanted to talk about her being sick, she enjoyed that. She did not like being reminded. In spanish she asked, “How was school honey?”. “It was okay, same old subjects we learn, I made a friend today, her name is Juliet. She has curly red hair and green eyes,” I said happily. We continued talking till it was time for her to go and take her medicine. “Goodbye honey, I love you so very much, never forget that,” she explained with a shaky voice. It was the sickness talking, I hated that talk. “I love you too, but don’t say “never forget that” you’ll always be here to tell me. The line was dead silent, then she really needed to go. She ended to call, then the next morning came along.

Her breath came in short gasps, refusing help from a breathing mask and the people around her. We sat around her bed in silence, not even the crickets of the darkening sky daring to make a sound. Exhaustion pulled at everyone in the room, willing us to close our eyes for a mere three seconds until our bodies gave in to the blanket the darkness that sleep granted. Unable to bear the sounds of heavy footsteps and the wiz of the poorly powered fan, I began to look back on all the memories I shared with this woman. For years, my grandmother’s kitchen counter is the place I went when I needed a safe place from the storm, someone to make me laugh, or simply, a friend. I could sit there for hours, relaxing to the sound of her laugh or throwing my voice in with hers when she would sing an old song I grew accustomed to hearing. For years, she provided long talks and advice that no one else could offer. For years, she was my safe place.

John Wayne once said, “Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway.” Heroes live by this quote every day, they could be fighting cancer, raising a family on their own, or trying to score the game winning goal. No matter what though, they saddle up and get ready to go into battle. This quote reminds me of my kind and caring grandmother. She is one of the most generous people you could ever meet, she is kind to all and loves meeting new people! With what she went through as she raised her children, she could be a cruel, mean old lady. She isn’t cruel or mean though, she is very passionate towards others. My grandmother is my hero because she showed persistence and preserved through all the hard times she went through while trying to raise my mom, three aunts, and uncle.

When I woke up, I heard the door to my room shut. I got out of my bed to see what was going on, only to find my grandma sitting in her chair. Everything about her appearance looked so ancient, she was aged like an old willow tree. “Good morning, grandma,” I said with a smile. “When did you get here?”

The next day my mom and I visited her in the ICU. Her normally wrinkly olive skin, was this pale white. Her blue eyes that usually shimmered with life were now this dull midnight blue. This amazing women was so lifeless and confused. Five minutes passed and I needed to leave. The waiting room was filled with anxious people, just as worried for their loved ones. My grandpa who is usually filled with life was filled with anxiety. My uncle, who is this strong no emotion kind of guy, was hurting. You could see it in his eyes, wishing he spent more time with her or said something different. As his look was the same as mine.