My First Public Bus Ride

You never truly know how much someone means to you until they are gone. All of the hot summer days spent at her house, the home cooked meals for lunch, the daily routine of watching game shows on GSN, the hours and hours of playing monopoly, and working the concession stand at Evans Park for the summer are now just cherished memories that I have with my grandma.

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

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.

I went to my living room to ask my mom a question, to see she wasn’t there. I asked my brother “where’s mom?” and he replied with “shes at the hospital, grandpa got burnt.” I would never have expected “grandpa got burnt” to be as severe as it was. I remember my mom coming home around two in the morning. I got up and out of bed to ask some questions. She said “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Pack some stuff up, we’re going to Waterloo tomorrow.” So I listened and packed up a bag.

My grandfather's dementia had gotten worse with age. He had developed a habit of walking out of the house randomly. They lived alone in their apartment in Pakistan. One day he walked out the same way and did not return for a long time. We were later informed that he had tripped on his way and broke his hip. After surgery my grandmother called me, I was living abroad at that time, and said, "I don't think he will recover, he is in a lot of pain" I assured her otherwise. She said, "I can't live without him. I don’t want him to die." The helplessness and grief in her voice was agonizing. She would often call and cry, it became tough overtime as I was abroad and not fully aware of his progress. I am her oldest grandchild, and she treats me like

My grandma was my superhero with her genial personality and her ability to give you her full, undivided attention in order to listen to whatever you had to say. It was always my dream to be able to share both my high school and college graduation with both my parents and grandma and being able to later pay them all back for all their sacrifices. Towards the beginning of my sixth-grade year my grandma became unexpectedly sick and as months passed her health slowly began to deteriorate until she fell into a vegetative comatose for the next four years. My grandma’s sudden illness came as an unexpected surprise which leads to my mom and her family having to take turns in order to care for my grandma throughout her extensive hospital visits and inhome medical care. Throughout those four years both my emotional and mental health took a hit as I tried my best to learn how to deal with her sudden illness and the fact that my mom was rarely home because she was either in the hospital or at my grandma’s house in order to help take care of

The part of this that tore me apart the most was that I couldn’t even go to her funeral, it was on the first day of classes, and grandpa told me to stay at college and not go to the funeral because it’s what grandma would want. This broke my heart. I thought I was a horrible granddaughter. I went with my grandpa’s wishes even though it was the most difficult decision I have ever made.

Five days had passed this time since anyone had heard from my mother. I remember praying to God to protect her from harm and for me to find her. The next day she showed up, but not in the way we had hoped. One morning as I was getting ready for school my sophomore year in high school, my phone rang to the voice of my stepfather. My stepfather had told me he heard a call come over the dispatch scanner at his work and my mother’s name was mentioned. The sheriff had informed my stepfather that my mother had been involved in an accident. My stepfather asked me to go to the emergency room and see what condition my mother was in because he lived a half hour away from the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital I found my mother cut out of her clothes, covered in her own urine, massive amounts of blood all over her body, and lying lifeless on life support on the table. At this point, no one knew whether my mother would be okay. My mother had bleeding on the brain as well as a tear in her shoulder, a shattered face, and a chest tube draining fluid from her lung which had collapsed. All I could do was pray! My mother’s life was in God’s hands now. Three days later she woke

She was my dad’s mom, and we used to call her Bebe Hajji as a sign of respect for a elders who has completed a pilgrimage to Mecca. Bebe Hajji passed away from gallbladder cancer, and it was a very surreal time in not only my life, but my family’s as well. I don’t actually remember that much about her before she was admitted to the hospital, only when she was. I remember what she looked like, I remember what her lap felt like when she’d hold me, but I do not remember her voice. When she was in the hospital I never quite grasped what was going on, I knew she was dying, but i dont think i ever knew what death was. After her funeral I was sad, but i kept waitin for the other shoe o drop. I didn't know how to grieve, I was nine, I went back to school and i didn't cry when i told other people what happened, and i didn't cry at her memorial. As i've gotten older, it's stuck with me more and more. When I was in middle school i felt exponential guilt, about my lack of tears when i was younger. I felt like I hadn't lover her enough and as a result been unable to grieve. As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized people deal with death differently, and to be fair, I was nine.

My grandma had survived a hard life, and yet managed to raise four responsible, well-educated, and successful children. All this she did while working as a respected psychiatric nurse and a state mental health board member. Although she had had and was still overcoming trials in life, I always knew she would be there and cared about me and my life. As my brother and I grew older and were unable to visit my grandparents as often as we

September 27th 2009. I was on my dad’s weekend and my mom was in the hospital for a weeks. I would visit her every day and sometimes bring her flowers. But on september 27th I woke up and walked into my living room and my dad was sitting on the couch looking sad. I asked what was wrong and then a knock was heard on the door it was my step dad and half brother. My step dad had puffy eyes he was crying. He told me to sit down and my brother came out and sat next to me. My dad looked at us and he spoke up your mother had just passed this morning. I was shocked I was hurt I was scared.I didn’t know if i should cry or run away. I’ve learned that losing someone you love is tough.

When I got my family was around our wooden table. My dad on his soft voice said “ I don’t think your grandpa will go through one more night, you need to call him” he cried. I felt like I couldn’t do it, felt so week and a huge hole in my stomach, something I’ve never felt before, I grabbed the phone and when I was about to call, the phone ringed, I passed the phone to my dad, It was my aunt sobbing and barely able to speak, then she said “ he passed away, I’m sorry honey” I couldn’t believe it I didn’t even had the chance to say

I remember it like it was yesterday. The horror of it. She’s gone. I never thought in a million years it’d end like that. A stroke? After beating cancer, not once, but twice. Seriously? The doctors said she’d never wake up, never talk, never recognize me. Why bother keeping her on life support? It’s not her. My dad told us “she’s not going to make it.” My brother, dropping, fell to his knees. A guy 6’2” 220, lost it. That day ruined our family. Mom was the glue, the one who intervened when my dad went military on us. The one who always had your back and took care of us. But now, because of a nation’s lackadaisical attitude towards type two diabetes, she’s dead.

June 11, 2015. It was a regular summer day, or so I thought. Only five days until my fifteenth birthday and I was super excited. My mom had taken the morning off from work to take my grandmother to the doctors. She was going for her regular heart check-up appointment. As we always did, my mother and I drove that morning over to the nursing home in St. Matthews, South Carolina. My mother had recently entered my grandmother into the nursing home because my mom needed to start working more and could not fulfill the obligations of taking care of my grandmother like she normally would. When we got to the nursing home, we parked the car under the awning which was in the front of the nursing and covered a little walkway where people loaded their family members. I got out first and headed back to the room as my mom followed closely behind. When I walked into the room, I saw my sweet loving grandmother sitting there. As always, my beautiful grandmother, with her white hair, her green eyes, her frail but beautiful skin, and her smile glistened as she awaited her day out. My grandmother did not get out much so even going to the doctors was a good day out for her. We helped her into her wheelchair, a normal struggle for my mother and I, and we rolled her down the hallway to the car. We loaded her into the car, another struggle, and we headed off to Orangeburg which was where the doctors office was. While riding to the doctor's office my grandmother mentioned that her hands looked green

It was a normal day, after school we got a text to come straight home right, no big deal right? I walked up the steps, dreading every step I took because she’s going to make me do dishes or something. I’m going to have to do a set of chores before I can leave again, normal day like I said. Little did I know, I would dreaded this day a lot more than expected. Once I seen the look on her face, I knew it wasn’t just dishes. She began to tell us to not be scared ,but she won’t be here for long. She has cancer and with only six months to live. I was in disbelief, shocked and all I could think is “how could you leave me like this?”, selfish right? I remember going down the stairs to sit in her car ,but she was too sick to drive, therefore, it would become mine. I sat there replaying a new Eminem CD over and over and over. So this is the beginning of a life-changing experience, your sweet 16 is supposed to be the best year of your childhood. Unfortunately, I will forever remember my 16 as the last year I kissed my mom , the last year I got to tell her something about my day and the last year she made me do dishes.