My Grandmother

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

However, as time progressed my nana’s once sweet smell became stale and her loving embrace started to weaken. she became a shadow of who she was. Dazed and confused, I struggled to hold onto her once strong presence and witnessed a semblance of the strong warm woman that she personified throughout her life. My mother had warned me of the effects of Alzheimer's, but witnessing the transition of my once vibrant Nana turning into a feeble old woman was something that couldn’t be explained. It was something that no one could prepare me for. It was a perspective that helped me grow into the person I am today.

My grandma Linda was her only daughter. I spent weeks at Ma’s house in Holstein, Iowa. Christmas for the Grell’s was always hosted at Ma’s house. When I was young she would take me swimming at the communities pool, and ice cream afterwards. Ma’ was an expert cook, her favorite summer dish was fried chicken. She was nearly famous for that fried chicken. In September of 2012 Doctors discovered a tumor in Ma’s liver. Ma’s children paid for an assisted living home in Sioux City, Iowa. She pasted away March 21, 2013. Leading up to March the relationship between my mother and her parents decrepitated. My grandparents refused to come to my high school graduation.

Based upon what I have learned after interviewing my grandmother over the 1960’s era, I came to understand what it was like for those that lived during that time. The 1960’s was a time of change. The ideas of politics, society, and overall way of life was completely transforming. The idea of revolution some would say grew as a heavy thought throughout a lot of Americans during the time especially in the younger generations. Though America was facing it conflicts in society with culture change, racism and foreign policies, the country itself was growing. The United States became a place where once ideas only mankind could only dream about were becoming real. This paving the way for America to take the roll in securing its title the greatest country on Earth.

The next time I saw my grandma, she was laying in a hospital bed dying of sepsis. My mom showed up to school and we drove to the hospital. I didn't get to say anything before I watched my grandma die, but my mom says her seeing me was enough.

Grandmothers are mostly unique people, many of the times caring, loving and protective people when it comes to their grandchildren. Whenever Hira sees teenagers with their grandmothers, happy, enjoying and having hearty fun the memories of her late grandmother comes so flowingly in her mind, and she cannot help it but let them take her back to the years when she used to stay with her grandmother, father, mother and sister and brother before the dreadful year of 2002 which saw her grandmothers life come to an end. She remembers the care, the protection, the outgoing nature of her grandmother and many other memories, which at times leaves tears flowing down her cheeks on the realization that her grandmother is long since gone forever.

By the time any of us grandkids or great-grandkids could walk, Grandma Opal had us on the farm learning how to check the hotwire fence with a screwdriver, in the garden planting and pulling the weeds or playing with the pets that were on the farm. Growing up in a small town everyone knows everybody. Opal, who was actually my great grandmother had been like a grandmother to various others. The town of Maysville is not a very large, so everyone knew her by grandma. Whenever the phone would ring, we would all answer “grandma’s house”. I spent uncountable summers as a kid in Maysville with my maternal grandparents, Terry and Char and my great Grandma Opal, but now that she is gone, I have a piece of her no one else has. I have my grandma Opal’s very fragile recipe box and her favorite embroidery patterns.

It was a very sad day in small town Rosalie, Nebraska. The sun didn’t seem to be shining as bright and the usual small, energetic children were nowhere to be found. It wasn’t the same without Betty Nelson around in the community of just a hundred or so people. The sweet, gentle smell of her cookies baking or the quick glimpse of the twinkle in her eye when she would tell her famous stories. My great-grandmother was someone very special to almost everyone that met her. She was always doing everything she could to help people, family or not. She was one of the wisest people and no one, especially me could get enough of her stories and adventures from her past childhood, teenage years, and motherly experiences. I was so shocked she was actually gone, after all the delightful memories I now had with her, but it was now time for everyone to grieve. I sat in the room, perspiration filling my nose as the sound of quiet sobs coming from my family around me fill my thoughts. I thought back to the good times as my mother told me to do. My favorite memory then came to me,

One day, she came to my grandmas for thanksgiving, and she saw me, hugged me and I went upstairs, not even five minutes later I came down and she had forgotten that I was there and said “oh look it’s my little shelly, I haven’t seen you in such a long time” I will never forget the way I felt, how she wasn’t there anymore and that It would get worse. I was the last great grandchild she remembered before he forgot who all of us were, she only remembers who her daughter

By the time I was 13 years old my grandma still meant the world to me but I was giving up on her. I wanted to go explore and hangout with my friends instead of hanging out with someone I was with every day of my childhood. I only started talking to her when it was convenient for myself or when I needed her to help me with something because I was so caught up with my friend’s life that I forgot who was there with me from the beginning. I was the typically young teenage girl that was moody and wanted to do things on my own. I thought I could do anything without an adults’

My daughter has a strong attachment to my mom (her grandma). Of course, my mom took care of her since she was born, while my husband and I worked. It was common seen them singing, dancing, kissing, and hugging each other. At the age of 3, my daughter already knows to write her name, count to 10, and the basic colors. Everything thought by her grandma. My daughter has so many childhood memories and her grandma is in every single one. Of course, my mom, my daughter, and I, have been always very close too, and we have thousands of pictures together. Today, my daughter is 17 year old and my mom is 92, and we both (my daughter and I) take care of her.

My great grandparents mean the world to me and it was very hard for me when they started to become sick. They have inspired me to be the best I can be and to never give up. They were very nice and awesome people, a lot of people looked up to them, including me. They lived in Indiana which meant I didn’t get to see them a lot but when I did it was the best times of my childhood. When we would go over there, my cousins, my brother, and I would play with the stuffed animals they had and we would hang out with family. One of my favorite memories of going down to visit was going to see the campus of Notre Dame. My grandparents have created a name for the Berges family there and now since they both died, Notre Dame is one of the only places I have left of them. Without knowing my great grandparents I don’t know who I would be today.

The person I have chosen to write about is my grandfather Juan “De Dios” Martinez. My grandfather has been a very influential part of my life. The fact that I am in this country, I owe to him and my grandmother and the struggles they endured coming here in the 60’s. His life has left an indelible impression on my life, and I feel an inescapable sense of gratitude and responsibility to him; to succeed and show him that his efforts for our family where not in vain.

My grandfather has gone for ten years. However, it was strange that he had often been in my dream until now. In my dream, his figure was so clear that I could touch him. He always held my hand and told me different fairy tales with a kind smile just like before. After several years of his death, I finally realized that this is how a person’s life connects to another one no matter life is over or not.

Growing up I learned a lot of different things from different people that helped me shape my future. A lot has stuck with me and a lot hasn’t. But the most important thing that I learned that has and will always stick with me is how to read and write. Many people learned how to read and write in many ways but I learned from and by the best and that is my wonderful mother. To me it was very easy for her to teach me because of our relationship, the method and strategies she used and because of that and because of her I am where I am today and I am very grateful.