My Grandfather Lessons

I caught my first largemouth bass here when I was just a little guy. I also caught my first sunfish here when I was young. In the summertime when we go down, my brothers and I take my grandpa's boat out on Hungry Lake. My grandparents live only like four miles away from the lake. So I hook up the boat to the four wheeler and I drive the four wheeler while my brothers drive my grandpa’s pickup. When we get the boat in we start up the trolling motor and go around the lake with that. We catch big fish every summer like big bass and northern pike. The people that usually go along is just my brothers and I. My boy cousin comes along sometimes when there is no football, hockey, or basketball game on. My grandma and grandpa come along fishing every once in awhile too. But that is only when Grandma is not cooking or my grandpa is not building something. My grandma mostly comes along only when we take the boat out. That is because she likes boat fishing more than land fishing. When we do take the boat out though my grandpa does not like water that much so he throws on a life jacket. In the winter time we always go fishing to Cotton Lake. We stay the night out there on the lake in a big ice house, so we are fishing almost twenty-four seven. A couple years ago pretty much all we caught that winter was a lot of baby northern pike. One winter one of our ice fishing poles almost went

I spent a good part of my childhood visiting my grandfather in the hospital. Those will be the best and worst memories of my childhood. I loved going to visit my grandfather but I also hated it. I loved going to the hospital because I loved seeing the doctors and nurses in action. I loved seeing how they handled their patients and I looked up to them because of how they took care of my grandfather. But I also hated going to the hospital because that’s where you would see so many people spending their last few days or hours with their families and that just made me have a mournful feeling deep down in my chest. I have always looked up to my grandfather. I was his right hand man or in this case his “right hand granddaughter.” He was my best friend, my hero and a second father figure growing up because even though he was battling cancer he still was the

I know that he’s always watching me now. I was living life just as normally as the other 10 year old. That was until my grandpa had been acting up in the following weeks of my 11th birthday, he was not being his normal self. He underwent a CT scan in early December, and it revealed a tumor on his brain. He underwent surgery to remove the tumor and lost his beautiful, prized hair. Not many men could grow hair like he could. He was recovering well from surgery, and according to the doctors, he would have 6-12 months to live. All was well I was until I was in Fort Wayne, Indiana for a hockey tournament with my PeeWee A team 6 weeks later. My father had received a call from my mother, who was my grandpa’s daughter. She told him that a tumor had regrown behind one of his eyes, and it was the size of a softball. They had no choice but to put him on life support because the tumor rendered him brain dead, and let everyone say their goodbyes. “Feed the good wolf,” was something he would always say to us kids. He loved that saying. He lived by it. I lost the man I wanted (and still strive to) be like. He was the perfect grandfather, and although his life was taken from him at the age of 63 by some horrible disease, he lived a full life. On the dark, candle lit night of January 14th, 2012, I realized how precious life is, and I chose to “Live Like Larry.”

In one instance, I went fishing with my father. I’m not really fond of the outdoors like he was, but I loved spending time with him. It had been raining earlier that morning, so the fishing area was wet. He insisted we go to is regular spot so we did. It was under an old rugged beat down bridge that was covered with green algae. By the time we

Fishing is a fun way for me to spend some time with my family members and just relax feeling the refreshing breeze hit my face. I enjoy going with my older brother to the lake here in Newton or Out in other towns. One time me and my brother went to a lake outside of Newton in a different town and stayed there for most of the day. We hardly caught anything but it was fun being out there with only my older brother. And the fish we did catch were all to small to take home to cook and man I wish we did catch a big one.

On May 11th 2013, my grandma passed away due to pancreatic cancer. A little later that year on September 25th, my mom received a call from my aunt in Guam that my dad had passed away in his sleep. Then on May 14th 2014, my grandpa passed from complications of an allergic reaction to a medication. So within a year, I was left to deal with three immediate family deaths, one right after another. Losing such important figures in one’s life could leave someone depressed and unmotivated to move on with their own life and to rise above those challenges is difficult, yet possible. During this time of hardship, I grew discouraged and saddened, but over time I became motivated to set aside these struggles and make a change.

Growing up, my dad worked hard and did not leave much time to bring us fishing. Now that I can drive the amount of time spent on the lake each summer has increased dramatically, and I am never on the lake alone. My brother, who also loves fishing, and I make a great team. There are times Jackson and I will head out to the lake by ourselves. Even though he is younger brother, I like fishing with him more than any of my friends who are my own age.

My Grandfather died on December 5th, 2015. I was 15 at the time and I had only just started highschool as a junior a few months prior. I didn’t get to see him recently before his death, nor was I able to say goodbye to him before his passing. Instead, I got to wait patiently while the man I respected for so long took his last breath. I watched as he passed away, right in front of my eyes.

He was generous, he made sure that his nieces and nephews, should not lack anything. I remember taking me to vacations, buying me gifts, paying my tuition and buying toys for kids. One day I spent a night in my uncle’s house, in the morning I overheard him arguing with his wife. I didn't had an idea why they were arguing. He left home for work. After two hours, I heard the house phone ringing and I answered the phone, the call was from my uncle’s job. They told me my uncle was rushed to the hospital. I went to the hospital upon my arrival the nurse told me that he is no more. It was brain aneurysm got

One of my favorite parts about my granddad particularly was how he always had something inspiring to say to me every day to keep me going. Sometimes it feels like he’s still inspiring me today while in heaven. I believe I would be struggling more if I didn’t have him around when I was little. He was the only father that was there for me when needed most. I miss him all the time, but

The day that my Grandpa passed away started out like any other day. My mom and I went to visit him daily, just because we wanted to spend time with him. It was August 11th so, summer was coming to an end. My mom, Grandma and I were sitting and waiting for him, in his hospital room, to get back from the tests that he had that day. Everything seemed fine. He looked great. My mom and I were only able to talk to him for a few minutes, sadly, before they had to take him away again for more tests. We said our good-byes, not knowing that they would be our last, and we left. When we were at the stop light at 75th and Washington, we got a call.

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

My great grandfather Bob Howell, who we called Papa Bob, was one of the greatest men ever in my opinion. He taught us many things, from how to treat one another to how to get through life accomplishing many things. Not too long ago he had experienced a fall. My cousins were outside doing yard work and had came in to get a drink, when the youngest heard someone. She saw papa Bob laying on the ground of his bathroom floor, and ran to get her sister. I got a call from her saying that she couldn 't get a hold of any of our parents. I started to panic and called my parents over and over until my dad answered. Papa Bob made it to the hospital, had scans done and got checked upped, but they said he was fine. As months went by he was never quite himself again, I blamed it on the fall secretly, but the doctors never found anything. It was getting worse and worse until he was put in the hospital. I knew his time was coming and I tried to spend time with him and listen to his stories when I could.

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.

Fishing had never been a hobby until I considered until this past summer. Fishing has an importance that goes way back since my great grandpa back in Mexico. My great grandpa used to take my father fishing to a nearby lake near their home where they would spend hours fishing for that night’s dinner. As a kid, I remember my family would take trips to the lake or rivers to have a family gathering and a carne asada. This is where my uncles and grandpa would fish, but at the time playing soccer with my cousins was more exciting. When I turned 13, my grandpa invited me to go fishing to Lake Buena Vista that Saturday morning. I immediately thought “tedious” but decided to open up and try a new activity and at the end of the day, I would have a story to tell my friends. Once at the lake, I asked my grandpa, “What is so cool about fishing” and he responded, “It’s not about catching fish, it is about relaxing and being away from everything and enjoying nature. Anyone can go to the market to buy a fish, but can they have the patience to battle one and reel it in?”. As the day progressed we caught a couple of catfish which my grandpa took home and made soup with. Although that day I enjoyed myself I also found out fishing was not my hobby. Fishing is for those who have patience and don’t dread being in the sun all day.