Essay About Love And Ramen Noodles

In “How Ramen Got Me Through Adolescence,” Veronica Greenwood (2014, August 1) describes how during a three year period expanding from the beginning of her middle school years, to the end, she was at a very troubled spot in life. She felt as if she was an outcast and that there was nobody else like her, nobody that had similar interests, or anybody who acted the same way as her. She describes how the only time that she every felt like she was in her “comfort zone” was when she was either reading, or eating Ramen Noodles. The genre of this story seems comes off as being a memoir. Veronica Greenwood (2014, August 1) says “for more than three years I ate a packet nearly every day, a thousand steaming bowls” (para. #6). This her describing how her life was previously over a stretch of three years.

Joan Smetana is an eighty-four year old, four foot ten, Catholic-German woman. She is sister to Mary-Ann Koenig wife to the late-Robert Smetana, and mother to Therese and Mary. She has five grandchildren, one of them in me. I love my grandmother, or as I call her: “Nana.” She is one of those woman that everyone loves, whether you know her or not; however, those who are closest to her, her family, tend to love her more from a distance, but love her none the less. She is literally the center of her family, as her house is in between the homes of her two daughters, otherwise known as my backyard and two streets over from my Aunt Mary. Eighteen years of growing up, knowing she was watching out her window for any sign of trouble and having

Throughout life we, as humans, are forced to deal with many aspects of death, whether it be losing

It may seem late but this is when we got our food. My father went out in our neighborhood, as camouflaged as possible, to get whatever vegetable scraps he could from the privileged people’s gardens. With the scraps, mother would make soup. The soup was made from water, salt, scraps, and chicken bones for flavor if we were lucky. I remember the steam dancing on the pot under the very dim kitchen lamp. The soup was honestly terrible but it was all we had. Despite the bland taste of the soup, my mother would always present our dinner with pride, knowing that she has done the best that she could. It was the same view each night. My mother presenting the soup, with a look that was a perfect mix of worrisome and affectionate. We found that look comforting as children. My father wore his anxiety on his face in wrinkles and a permanent frown on his lips, but he would force a smile once in a blue moon. My brother was always lighthearted and he provided all of us with joy and hope. This was my life, and that’s what I expected the rest of my life to

Death is all around us; it could arrive to anyone at any time. It can happen in different ways, whether it is diseases, allergies or car accidents. Most people approaching the death stage try to avoid the thought of dying because of fear. Some people of religious backgrounds have different opinions about death. Some accept that there is a place reserved for them in heaven right after death, others believe they will reincarnate. Those are the strong believers; if they are a religious person they might believe in only our souls will last forever. However, others fear death because of the pain of death itself, the uncertainty of what will happen to them after death, and the concern for those people and things they will leave behind.

As a child, most of my most poignant childhood memories are from watching how my grandfather cared for his family. Standing in my grandparents’ kitchen watching my grandfather make faces while my Grandmother cooked breakfast; is one of the earliest memories

When I was younger, I did not receive full attention from my parents. I was always competing against their work, trying to gain recognition from them. I pushed myself to work hard, in hopes that it would capture their attention. Regardless of how hard I tried to be acknowledged for my strong efforts, they wanted me to work even harder than I could withstand. However, my grandma was there to keep me going. She provided me with love and affection that I didn't receive from my parents. She was overjoyed when she saw that I was studying diligently to excel average standards. My grandma made me feel more intelligent than I truly was. She would smile proudly when I announced that I had received a picayune award for good conduct. My grandma made me feel confident in my own abilities. She gave me the courage that I could do anything if I gave my full efforts.

The concept of death is perceived in thousands of different ways. Religions and cultures shape how many people think about death. Some even celebrate it! The Day of the Dead is celebrated in Mexico. People embellish sugar skulls, put up decorations, and bring a grandness to death. In different parts of the world people believe in different afterlives. This usually derives from the religions they believe in. For now, we are just going to focus on my fear. The easiest way for me to try and explain, probably the most difficult concept there is.

Death is a very tricky subject, everyone reacts to it differently. Death can bring grief, sorrow, disbelief, regret, guilt, and karma. We believe that death mostly brings grief, disbelief, and regret. If someone close to you has died you will feel sad, and regret their death. Sometimes people wonder did I say everything? Or do they know I loved them? All these questions accompany death. We don’t enjoy death no one does but sometimes it’s the only option. The question is always asked should I let my family member suffer or let them die peacefully. Death’s side effects include crying, depression, hatred, anger and envy.

Death has taught me a great deal about life. Death has taught me the true feeling of hurt, loss, depression and fear. The emotion of fear plagues me because I wonder if death will hurt? Will I know when I have died? What will it be like after I take my last breath? Who will or will I be someone else when I pass away? These are all of the questions I ask myself. I am quite afraid of death to say the least. Being depressed about and over death, at one point controlled my life completely. I couldn't sleep, eat, have a conversation without tears and I also had problems with my weight. To me, depression is the closest thing to death while you are breathing. I had become mentally destroyed and emotionally ruined during my depressed state. The loss

Is it possible to die without suffering?
When you’re old, your bones are weak
your heart is weak, 
you’re weak. 
Is it possible to have a happy death? 
You have people surrounding your body crying. 
Or you’re just alone, 
with no one to be by your side. 
Is it possible to be content when someone dies?
Death can change people, maybe for the better or for the worst. 
Maybe you won’t know how to continue living your own life. 
Or maybe you will see the world differently and
 learn to live life to the fullest. 
Death is like a bomb that can destroy the world. 
When you’re dying, you’re not the only one dying. 
Your love ones are being crushed into a million pieces on the inside. 
The skies become angry, 
the sun no longer shines, 
the air is cold,

Death has always been around me. From the time I was born, I knew death in a very intimate way and understood how transversally it affected people. Both my grandmothers, each with separate conditions, died before my birth. I, myself, almost died at my own birth. My own mother died when I was eight and my grandfather preceded her in death a short four years later. I’ve experienced death from all angles and perspectives (friends/family/pets) and I’ve concluded one major fact from it; death sucks. Truly, I don’t think there is an elegant, poetic way to make death beautiful. Yes, there have been “beautiful” poems written by wonderful poets produced on death itself — morbid, yet satisfyingly eloquent — but in reality, death is all the same, the end of a cycle of life that leaves loved ones behind wondering why amazing people were taken away from

Death is an experience that every individual must deal with at one point in their life. Personally, I have little experience with death, but I have dealt with it through the pain felt by those surrounding me. When my Grandfather passed away, I did not experience any sort of loss, as I had only met him one time, but I supported my Mother as she grieved the loss of her father. Over time, I have supported friends who have lost family members, but was never forced to deal with death directly. Due to my inexperience with death and dying, I continue to have a fear of what is unknown to me.

I could stand up here and tell you all a million of my favorite childhood memories, but we don’t have the time and you would all know much more than you ever wanted to know about me. Anyways, one thing most of those memories have in common, is my Grandma Jo. My Grandma Jo has always been my person. You know, that one person who was placed on Earth to make your life better? Yeah, that’s my Grandma Jo. She always says that I’m the lucky grandchild and I gladly accept that title, take that Daina. I thank my Grandma Jo for teaching me who I am and who I want to be through her passion to serve, love for others, and absurdity she lives by.

The craving for shrimp-flavored Ramen Noodles is what got me into the mess that would later allow me to become the person I am today. My friends and I were enjoying another day of Ramadan inside our local mosque, when my mom came in and told us that the food had run out. Many of my friends began to leave, but I took this as an opportunity to create an adventure of serving 100 people. Why go our separate ways when we could all get together and make a simple meal? We quickly purchased the noodles and headed back to the mosque.