Descriptive Essay: Grandpa's Place

"Ava... Ava." I hear my name being called and I groan at the intrusion of my sleep. I turn over to my side and bring the blankets up, covering my face completely from the morning sun.

“Well I was going to come but then I had to go and help Grandpa with cleaning… who is very, very old.”

Every summer since middle school I went back to Taiwan to take care of my grandpa. His health started to fail these recent years but my parents worked every summer so my dad would always send me back to care for my grandpa. Many people worked as interns or took classes during the summer while I worked as a caretaker in hospitals. At first I disliked my role as an caretaker because I believed that I was not gaining anything valuable and I was also not enjoying myself like all my friends. As the summers progressed I was able to get firsthand view of how the doctors would work endlessly to treat their patients while the nurses would work to ensure their comfort. I would just stay behind and watch them work to try and treat my grandpa for whatever disease he had at the time. Whenever my grandpa was ready to leave the hospital I would always see how grateful he was toward the doctors because they literally saved his life. The next summer when I went back to Taiwan this scenario would replay itself again.

My grandfather’s bass stood in a dark corner so quietly, just waiting to be played again. As I took the covering off the bass, dust danced its way to the floor, and its fire engine red coloring gleamed as brightly as ever. When it was finally time to clean out my grandparent’s house after their passing, my mother told me that the instrument was mine if I wanted it. I was so delighted to learn that he left it to me because this bass represented the one personal activity that linked me to my grandpa, and was the reason I wanted to play string instruments. I remember feeling slightly on edge as I drove away from my grandparent’s house with that bass though, because that meant he was truly gone, not coming back, and I would never hear him play it again. The instrument means so much to me because it stands for everything that I have become from learning patience, perseverance, and the will power to stick with a goal till the end.

We had just moved in March 2007 into my new house that my grandpa had built for us. I was so happy because I wanted to be closer to my grandma and grandpa. My grandpa was finishing up our house and his hip started hurting so he and my grandma went to the doctor. My mom was really stressed out because she didn't want anything bad to happen to him. One morning in April of 2007, my grandma and grandpa got a call from the bone specialist and they said that he had bone cancer and his hip was destroyed from it. Within the next few days they were planning hip replacement surgery. He had the hip replacement surgery and had to walk with a walker. Then things got worse because the cancer had now spread to his lungs and was stage 4 cancer. Within the next few months he had a massive stroke. Four days later my mom finds out my dad had stage 4 colon cancer and will not make it very long. One day later my grandpa took his last breath while holding my grandma’s hand. My mom was very upset about my grandpa dying and my grandma was screaming for him to come back. They had to take my grandma into another room so the funeral home could come in and get the body. My dad was still doing good at this time but then things changed.

American society is a complex and growing muscle, one that changes every couple of years, if one looks at society as a whole the only potential way of understanding society is by observing characteristics of an individual’s biography and history. My grandfather, Edwin Richard Constant was brought into American society being born in the District of Columbia, in 1943. At the time of his birth, World War II had just ended and my grandfather had moved back into the NY area where he was brought up in his grandfather’s house on the east side of Brooklyn along with his mother, father, and brother. Having little memory of his surrounding environment, my grandfather had little to say about growing up in Brooklyn. Though a critical aspect of his childhood which would later affect him in sever ways was being plagued by the lost of his brother. Towards the end of World War II, his oldest brother who served as a U.S Navy Medical Corpsman, was killed on the island of Okinawa while being assigned to a fleet of Marine forces. Unlike today’s society much of society at that time held strong ties to the catholic or Christian religion which resulted in my grandfather being raised religious. Every Sunday, my grandfather was brought to the local Episcopal Church trinity in Brooklyn resulting in the development of having an interest in the church’s sense of community later becoming an acolyte, singing for the church as a choir boy. At the time, my grandfather’s prominence in the religious

“I know. Don’t worry.” Grandpa leaned casually against the porch rail in a gray three-piece

I walk up the steps of the house, looking around at the cracking paint that lines the walls. the stairs creak under me, I look down at the sagging wood and hurry to the porch which isn't any better. mold is covering it along with the fall leaves and sunken wood spots. I reach out and pull open the screen door,it makes a loud screeching noise. I shove my little silver key into the locked door, i twist and lean my shoulder against the door giving it a little push to open. The smell of old wood hits me before I get inside. I Step inside letting the screen door slam behind me. I look around, dust is falling through the air in the streams of daylight from the broken window. There's a couch in the middle of the room with a coffee table. I walk to

My Grandpa’s fiance has to be one of the coolest and unique people that I have ever met.

Thinking he went back in time Jimmy let out a whisper, “grandpa is that you?”

“You don’t have to be rich to be generous” ~unknown. That the same with my grandpa, he is not rich or poor but he is generous. My grandpa also is the definition of caring. According to google the definition of caring means displaying kindness and concern for others. Every day my grandpa shows generosity to everyone.

I vividly remember his bright blue eyes making contact with mine, he was my grandpa and he was my role model. We did everything together, we would sneak a bite of supper without my mother knowing, he would watch me catch butterflies in the massive corn fields, and we would watch his favorite basketball team. I even remember hearing the crowd cheer, the basketball players shoes screech and my grandpa hugging me. His smell was so distinct and woodsy, even though now he’s gone I remember it to this day.

Worn out toys and VHS movies are stuffed in various boxes, along with dad’s unopened sweatshirts, hats, and other gifts. Stone covers all four surrounding walls, and claustrophobia fills my head. I shoot back out onto the wet floor. Straight ahead stand multiple black and plastic shelving units where collectible John Deere and International tractors reach from the floor to the ceiling Directly to the right of the room, the old furnace roars, like a rusty motorcycle starting for the first time after a long winter. A worn black punching bag stands alone near the window. Entering through a compact doorway, I am in the deepest and darkest room in the house. A foul odor infiltrates the sinister room. I take a step up, but this time water still sits between my pink painted toenails. Water rushing through the worn pipes sounds like Niagra Falls. It startles me and I spring off the concrete. Rotted wood beams support the wall that lies between the two rooms. Colored plastic storage bins packed full of decorations for every season overfill the wet and bitter room. I decide to make a dash back to the stairs, my heart is pounding, breathing is heavy, but I take off. I whirl around the rusted steel furnace and the stairs are in view. Sprinting up the steps two at a time, the door is in my sight. Color flows back into my face. Finally, I’m

The crunch of frozen grass could be heard a mile away at five o’clock in the morning. My grandpa and I whispered conversation as we strolled over to our favorite deer blind. We cautiously marched over sticks trying hard not to make any sounds. We eventually made it without spooking any deer and set our guns down, waiting for sunrise. These are the times I enjoy the most with my grandpa. It is a chance to sit back and enjoy life with one of my favorite people on this planet. Time goes slower in these moments. It gives us a chance to share conversation about anything. We swap stories from the past and I always seem to learn something new from my grandpa. Whether it be from advice he gives me or from an experience long ago, I’m always listening. Although our experiences may be different we still love to enjoy the same hobbies together, whether it’s woodworking, hunting, or time out on the lake; sharing life with my grandpa is priceless.

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.