Descriptive Essay About My Grandparents

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.

It was sometime in the afternoon, Jace was sleeping in the baby room, grandma and me were in the living room. She then got the idea to make a cake, a strawberry cake, for her birthday. We got all the ingredients, mixed everything and put it in the oven. After the cake was finished baking. We took it out, and the middle of the cake sunk in!! We couldn’t stop laughing, but at the same time we were a little upset. But we iced the cake anyways and ate it, & it was delicious.

Decemeber 25th, 2016: A day filled with overly excited children and stressed out parents who are preparing for the events to come that day. After eagerly ripping through tons of wrapping paper that early morning, my family and I started our journey to the little town of Sobieski. The town may be extremely small and only have a population of less than two hundred people, but it is one of the most significant cities in my life. We soon arrived at my second home, my grandparent’s house, in the next half an hour.

Everyone has someone in their life that gives them a great amount of inspiration. The people that have given me the most inspiration are my Grandparents. My Grandmother has done a great deal for me in my life. My Grandfather has done something with his life that nobody expected him to do. My Grandparents have greatly changed my life. If it was not for them, I would not be the person I am today. My Grandmother is a great person inside and out.

Last night my grandmother, Kasper, or Kas for short, passed away. She was 79 years old. Which I guess is a pretty long time so I guess I can’t complain. But, It still sucks.

“Wake up kids!” my mom exclaimed her words dragging me off the bed and into the shower. I jumped back as the sharp cold water pierced the skin on my chest, a stream of “wake up” filled my body immediately. We woke up earlier than usual, which would probably be the usual for other families, my family was already dressed and downstairs ready to go to our friends family reunion. I threw on a faded shirt and a worn pair of jeans, they were old and i was wearing them, and headed down the stairs and into my mom’s grey minivan.

Every household does sleepovers a little differently than all the rest, varying in scale and frequency among a wide variety of traits. Around three years ago from the current date, my family made plans for my younger cousins to have a week-long sleepover over at my house. Inside my mind, I was musing, “This better not get too loud.” Each of my cousins had a tendency to get pretty noisy with very little reprieve in-between, and it got amazingly ear-splitting. Tyler, the youngest, was the king of noise as it turned out. He was very bouncy and rambunctious, and verbally fought with my brother literally every single visit.

“Caio, Caio, Caio” Everyone says as I enter through the old crumbling door into the main room. The tomato and basil smells from the kitchen make their way to my nose. “Come va?” “Sembri proprio tuo padre!” Everyone is screaming to tell me something and then my grandmother screams “Okay, that’s enough!” Silence swept the room. Everyone was gathered around like they were ready for a ceremony. With red cheeks and sweat running down his face, my grandfather introduced everyone. Every person coming up and kissing me on each cheek. The small stuffy room smelled like pasta and only had one window for enough light to shine through to see the mustiness in the room. It was an only house with crosses up in every room. All of the family is Catholic and it showed immensely through their personalities. Everyone broke up and spread throughout the creaky old house.

The image I have chosen is my grandfather blessing an excerpt from my uncle’s mural in San Antonio. The mural can be seen from the highway on the side of a laundromat. The mural is called “Insomne de Amor” and was finished in 1999, then restored in 2009. All the realistic images on the mural are of my family. When the mural was in the process of being restored, my uncle had staged photos of us taken that he then turned into graphics before they were painted on the wall. The excerpt is of my grandfather wrapping his arms around my sister and I as we look up to him. He is wearing a superman shirt and has the sun haloing around his head radiating light to the rest of the mural. When the mural unveiled to the public there was a ceremony and to end holy water was handed out so those in attendance could bless the mural. A photo was taken my grandfather choosing to bless the faces of my sister and I rather than himself. This picture was the one chosen when an article about the mural was written in the local paper, and is the first result when the mural is searched on the internet. The depiction on the mural and the photo taken at the unveiling is how I know my grandpa to be—selfless and radiating.

Richard Puz once said “Death leaves a memory no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.” I don’t remember every moment with him but he was someone who I looked up to, someone who told me stories, someone who watched over me and someone who loved me. He was my grandfather.

I saw my neighbors through the window. Reluctantly i had agreed to hang out with them a few hours earlier, mostly because my mom forced me to. I popped in a ear bud, a song by my chemical romance corsed through my blood. I stepped out to the warm sun, the smell of freshly cut grass hit me, they were the feelings of summer.

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.

Either “ Cooper no!” or “Cooper stop eating that!”, are two of the most common phrases said in my household. Cooper has successfully eaten half of a water bottle, a cow bone, pens, his own collar while it was on him, he’s chewed up socks, shirts, and tubes of mascara and much more. Cooper is a small black, Miniature Toy Poodle, that enjoys being an inconvenience too keeping things in their rightful spot. Cooper enjoys eating things that could kill him, and one day, it caught up to him.

Beaten, broken down, ramshackle, and vandalized. This is what you see now, an insignificant piece of architecture. I see a home my family spent more than 60 years in. It became my sanctuary. My father’s childhood home in San Luis Potosi, Mexico helped me embrace my Mexican culture because it was where I first tried authentic Mexican food, met my ethnic family, and saw so much change in my family’s life.

My grandmother’s house has a very special place in my heart. As the family has gotten older and we have all had our own children we do not visit as we should. I visited with my grandmother many times when I was little. Her house always seemed to have something about it that set it apart from all the rest. As you walk into the back door of her house you would notice a long, narrow kitchen that led into the main living and dining room of her house. The smell of food home cooked food was quite evident. Grandmother cooked every day and always cooked big meals on holidays for the family.