Legos Essay example

That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.

The following months a winter, cold and gloomy, surrounded the house. My grandmother came to stay with us since my father had fallen into depression and needed help taking care of my sister and I. When my grandmother went grocery shopping my sister would struggle with homework without my grandmother’s help. One day when my grandmother left to go grocery shopping my sister approached me, which was unusual of her since its very rare for her to come to me. Her dark brown hair and big eyes reminded me of my self when I was younger. “I’m hungry” she complained, a question she’s never asked me. My father sleeping and my grandmother away, I was the only one left to take care of her and that terrified me. I had never cared for or known how to care for someone else. All I knew was how to evaluate whether or not someone was caring for another correctly.

My family’s dog died of disease, my grandma’s father died of old age, and my mom as well as my dad’s wife died of cancer. My dad is just like his mom. They process the loss and move on. They don’t let it stop them. I am death denying like my brother is, except he accepts death while I push it away. I try to avoid it at all costs and since my mom died last month, I have pushed every feeling I can away. It surprised me how accepting of death my grandma was. For some reason, I thought she would be weary of death and not want to talk about it. I thought she would have been more like I am. When she said her most important loss helped her become a more compassionate nurse, I admired that. It gives me hope to use my personal loss as a motivation for my nursing career. After all, my mom always said she wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer (nursing is good enough, sorry mom!). From this assignment, I learned that you should not hold everything back. Everyone has their moments, but these moments cannot stop a person from doing things that need to be done. Remember the good and do not dwell on the bad my grandmother says. Push through and take breaks when needed. I learned that it is okay to take time to process everything and to express my emotions when needed. A person does not have to be strong all the time, and it is time I start to realize that. I have learned that I can live life how I want, or I can stay sheltered. Either way,

Grief and loss has been huge part of my life. Although my youngest uncle was killed in Iran-Iraq war; before I was born, he was always part of our lives because of my mom. My first experience of actual loss was my grandpa’s death. I was six-year-old. We were on vacation in another state in Iran, while he had a heart attack, and died immediately. It was such a shock for everybody. My mom got informed by her uncle that day, but it took us 12 hours drive to get back to our hometown. I still remember my mom cried, and moaned the entire time. My dad’s parents died before I was born, so my mom’s dad was the only grandpa that I knew. It was really hard for me to not have him in my life, though I couldn’t talk about it with my mom. In my culture, we

In the past two weeks, I’ve had family death and family hospitalized which caused a great amount of stress on me. My grandfather’s oldest brother died a month before his birthday, October 26th. It left a great deal of pain on my chest as I watched his grandchildren speak about him in ways I didn’t know was possible. Shortly before his death, my grandfather was hospitalized. I became accustomed to him being hospitalized since it was something unordinary. I didn’t expect this visit to be one of great length, but as usual with visits like these, I was mistaken.

This essay will inform the reader of my thoughts of the medieval setting of my Lego kingdom story. Often in the medieval times kings waged wars off of a random whim based on his emotions and selfish goals, if not for conquest. Ordinarily the nobility united their kingdoms through marriages, but more often in conquest. Kings usually had vassals loyally serving under them. More receptive neighbors and allies accepted open trading, nevertheless, bandits still tried to intercept the goods. Boarders were not always well defined, which as you may have guessed, led to numerous disputes. Scientists and inventers made technological advances much later in the medieval ages as eastern products and ideas flooded the dark ages. Therefore, art, culture,

Forewarning and preparation faulted in fortifying a timely finalization. Predilections waned in assistance when producing this pivotal document. Where I gauge on a scale of knowledge presented defunct when it came to this essay. All these are so due to recent upcomings, and with those, a drain of determination causing a problematic severity. In a sudden sequence, both of my grandparents passed in a minute span of time of ten months, bereaving our family of joy and sealing us little time to reconcile and recollect. Their passing was not as detrimental as

The pain of losing someone close to you, especially a parent, is never something you can ever quite articulate. But, the lessons you learn and the person you become in the aftermath is a little easier to explain. My mother was my best friend. She was ornery, funny, and brilliant in her own way. She always knew how to soothe me and she always made the effort to, even when she was combatting her own issues. In 2009, my parents divorced due to my father’s anger issues and drug use. In addition to becoming a single parent, she was also physically disabled due to work injuries and dealt with pain almost constantly. Her death was May 26th, 2015, just six days after the end of my freshman year. The exact details are burned into my memory, but at the same time the entire day is a blur. I remember the train of emotions hurtling in myself and in my loved ones; the panic, the rage, and the absolute heartbreak I experienced during what I dub “The First Year”.

It was a sunny, blue skied, rainbow out type of morning on the eighteenth of July, 2014. Waking up the sound of my mom’s voice, “Girls, you need to wake up and start getting ready.” It’s already here? It seems like just yesterday my grandma was teaching me how to play cards, letting me do her hair, and scratching my back until I fell asleep. I’ve been dreading this day ever since her admission into the nursing home, and now that it was here, all of the sadness built up. Holding back my tears was the hardest thing I’ve done, but I needed to stay sane for the sake of my dad, who had just lost his only parent left.

After retiring from the Air Force, I would spend my mornings with my mother, sitting at her kitchen nook, gazing at my father’s roses in the back yard. With the morning dew resting lightly on their petals, they were truly a sight to see. The breeze carried their scent through the windows, making it seem as though he was there with us. It had been two years since he passed but it seemed like only yesterday. His photos surrounded us as we laughed at his silliness, cried at his absence and asked why on a daily basis. Nothing but happy memories and admiration for him remained, and we claimed he was a saint, harboring a wild side and crazy sense of humor. It was on one of these mornings that my mother made a statement that would change our lives forever. “I suspect that your

FOCUS OF PRESENT SESSION: This session focused on the youth expressing her emotions related to loss of her grandfather. The client was asked to describe her relationship she had with her grandfather and how his death impacted her. She noted that they had a “great” relationship, she stated that he was like a father figure to her. She reported that he taught her how men are supposed to treat women by a positive example for her. Additionally, she shared that he gave her motivation to excel, both academically and and as an individual. She noted that after his death, nothing had matter anymore because, someone so good was taken away from her.

Behind this image lies what it took to overcome a raging storm that has occurred in my life. It was early one morning while the dew was still fresh on the grass. I remember it as if it was yesterday. On March 26, 2015, the phone call of a lifetime awakened me. All I could hear was my mother crying saying “She’s gone Alexis, she’s gone”. “Who’s gone mama?” I replied. “Your godmother, “my mother sobbed. I pulled back the covers and sat up in the bed. The words that I just heard was too overwhelming at the time. This lady who meant the world to me is now gone. She practically raised me as if I was one of her own. What was I going to do now that she’s gone? Three weeks later, On April 14, 2015, I received another devastating phone call that my Grandmother had passed away. How could two of the closest people in my life die in a

When my dad passed away last July, it was tough. It was halfway through the summer, I had just graduated from high school, and I was preparing to embark on the exciting and nerve-wracking journey that is college. All the while, I was living life in my own little world, detached and disconnected from those closest to me. Most of my days consisted of working one job or another (at the time I was juggling three, for no justifiable reason), and my days off consisted of sleeping in, spending lazy afternoons by the pool, evenings by the fire with friends, and late nights of Netflix. But I got lost in that little world. I forgot to be present, mindful, and – most of all – appreciative. So when my dad, who was neither sick nor ill, didn’t wake up from his sleep one morning, Reality didn’t just bring me back down to earth. It hit me. Hard.

On Monday, November 9th, this is what I had read on the news, after my mom had pulled me out of class, following a tense and frantic phone call. She hadn’t given me any specific details, only that there had been an accident, to go home, and to call our closest living relatives. She also mentioned that she and my brother were heading to the hospital, and that I was to call her back once I’d done what she’d asked. When I asked her again what had happened, all she said was, “there was an accident”, and hung up the phone. The next few minutes I’d spent trying to decipher the vagueness of her response, and then the thought hit me. Dad. She hadn’t mentioned dad. Not even once. But why? My mind began to surge with irrepressible thoughts. What would we do on our own? Without him. How could we support ourselves? Mom would have to get a job now. I guessed that I would too. Yet, I didn’t know the first thing about supporting a

Growing up my father was absent the was gone with the wind. I would wake up and he would be gone without a trace. It wasn’t easy going to bed every night knowing I wouldn’t get to see him- sometimes it was weeks until I was able to even see him. Whenever the had ‘free time’ he would go out to look for more work. Even after a long, arduous day of work outside in the Texas heat, he made whatever time we could spend together special. WIth him everything seemed great, as if there were never problems, as if we were a normal family . I have come to realize that he sacrificed a lot for me and