My Grandfather : A Short Story

“That’s ok I’ll help you.” My mom said as she could tell I was scared.

The parents came out of Grandma’s room by one by one, bags under their eyes, makeup running down their face, and bright red noses. By that time, I could almost predict what happened. As my mom and dad approached us with their heads down, I prepared myself to hear exactly what I never wanted to hear. “The doctors are turning off the life support machine. She isn’t suffering anymore, and she will be looking over every one of you guys. She said she loves you all so much,” Mom told us while my dad didn’t hide his tears back.

One night in January, I couldn't sleep and it was 4am and then out of the blue I got a call from my sister.. At first all I had was questions, “What do you mean his organs are shutting down?” And then she said it-- grandpa’s dying. She called telling me that our grandpa, who was battling cancer on and off for eight years,

The stench of death hit my nostrils as I opened the door to go inside, which is why I always hated going to the hospital. We waited the fifteen minute queue, until I heard my name from a nurse. I followed the nurse into a small, beige room. I sat down on the examining table, as my doctor walked in. I told him my symptoms, and he did a quick check up. His cold fingers pressed against my lower back. “Breathe in and out.” He said. I did as told. “Slower.” he exclaimed. At that moment, while I was slowly breathing in and out, I could hear a small click every time I inhaled. The doctor looked up and said, “Ahhh, you seem to have pneumonia.” He explained to my mom and I what that meant because we were clueless. After he finished, he told us that if I waited any longer to go to the hospital, he wouldn’t be speaking to me, which opened my mom’s eyes finally. He told me that I couldn’t go to school for at least another two weeks, gave me a school note and my prescription. We left the hospital. My mom dropped me off, and went to pick up the medication. As I lay in bed, I remember thinking about everything that has happened to me in the past two days, and what the doctor told me. Those thoughts were interrupted by the opening of my bedroom door as my mom walked in. She handed me the medication. I swallowed the pills, and fell asleep. The next morning my mom walks in with a stack of papers. She said, “It’s alright if you’re not able to attend class,

He looked up at me as I tried to reassure him that he was going to be okay. “Help is on the way.” I could feel the fear in his eyes.

“MOM WHERE ARE WE GOING!!!” I said, feeling like I could burst at any moment it's a horrible thing to be car sick when you don't know what to do about it. “Don't worry dolly we will be there any second now” said Sharon,  but I just know her as mom. “I think i'm dying!” I said, sinking into the back car seat. Mom didn't say anything as with my brother they  just smiled. I wondered if they could see something I couldn't so I forced my body to sit up and unbuckle my seatbelt as my eyes lit up as if I saw an angel. It felt like everything was in slow motion. For months now I've been dying to go to Six Flags for one day and today was that day! “Do you feel better deer or should we go back home” mom said with an evil smile glancing at me through

"Papa, are you okay? I was worried when you didn't come out for breakfast or lunch. Is something wrong?" Her face was flooded with concern for the man who had raised her.

I was sitting in a blue chair in the kitchen, confused. My brother was sitting to my right. I looked into my dad’s eyes; they were pained and full of sadness. He started speaking to us, but I only remember hearing the last sentence: “Dadi has a terminal neurological condition, called PSP.” Shock rushed through my body as I processed his words. Every memory of my grandparents, living life to the fullest within their quaint house in the Pittsburgh suburbs, rushed through my mind as I tried to hold on to the past.

Around six to three months before this tragedy occurred, my grandpa’s health had taken a turn for the worst. We would be awake at midnight, hearing him violently vomit crimson colored fluid. He couldn't get up or walk without my mother or grandma’s assistance. A brutal cough would take both his breath and voice away. Yet, he was so understanding and caring of both my brother and I. He would do everything he could to play with me or tell me a story, since he knew that I didn’t know any better. A couple months before his passing, I came home from school to find no one home except my anxious looking aunt and my then three-year old cousin. I remember running to my grandparents’ room to greet my grandparents, but when I opened the door, no one was there. I ran to my aunt and asked her where everyone was. I could see in her face that she was worried, but she tried to be as calm as possible so she wouldn’t scare me.

“I’m not going to say I didn’t see this coming, there is always something, just like your mother.” said my dad with a giggle under his breath.

“OH MY GOD” my mom screamed running toward me. She had picked me up, and ran faster than i've ever seen her run before, and went straight to the car. My grandma had been in the car already and was to the left of me in the back seat. I had my arm on a pillow barely conscious.

I have an abundance of grotesque, yet, barely visible memories of childhood. However, no breathtaking family trips, no unique family togetherness that taught a moral lesson, no abnormal holidays. We still ate family meals together, but most often the children and adults lived in different worlds. When I needed comforting or wanted the best of both worlds, I could turn to my Grandpa.

I think the person who has had the most profound effect on my life besides my parents is my grandfather. I never realized before how much of an effect he had on my interests and goals for the future. Years ago, he used to tell me stories about historical events and experiences he had fighting in Vietnam and my great grandfather fighting in World War 2. His vivid descriptions always made it so interesting and, in some cases, more light-hearted than what actually happened. To this day he still has more stories to tell me, and never fails to captivate my interest. In doing this, he opened my eyes to my biggest interest, history, and encouraged me to pursue this interest throughout school. I feel like it would help to give a short summary of his life and how it affected me.

When we were together we were invincible, us against the world. I’d look up to him, not only because he was 6’4, but because he was my grandpa. I have clear memories of him picking me up from school, playing old school reggae music during our adventurous car rides. We’d always sing along to our favorites, sometimes turn the music up so loud the people in the cars next to us could hear it. When I would visit his apartment, the familiar smell of drywall and pennies would fill the air. It was my hideaway, my home away from home. My grandpa collected pennies in water jugs. He would say that one day they’d be worth more than just pennies. I loved it there, not only because he had a freezer filled with many flavors of ice cream to which he would often say to me “you can have all you can eat” but because it was our time to bond. For five years it was my mom, my dad, and my grandpa helping me to grow. Those are my favorite people, my role models. Being around my grandpa brought me such comfort and joy.

“Hello Sophia!” My mom said back to me, looking up from her computer while she was sitting on the couch. “I wanted to let you know that me and your dad have planned something very special and fun to do tonight!”