My Grandparents

Growing up, I have faced many difficult challenges. When I was just five years old, I was taken away from my mother due to her addiction to drugs. My oldest sister, the one that took care of me, was sent to live with her dad hundreds of miles away. That was very hard for me and my other sister, because she was our mother figure. My other older sister and I were sent to live with our father, and throughout the years he had four other daughters with my stepmother. I was always treated differently than my younger sisters, in a way that made me feel like I was excluded out from them.

As a kid our parents have always told us to never talk to strangers. Not because they are bad people or dangerous, but instead because you simply do not know anything about them. When I was younger my dad always use to tell me, “Noah if you ever find yourself around a lot of strangers turn around and go back to where you came from.” It may be a cliché but every parent has said that to their children before, at least once. Let me first say that my family only consists of 6 people. Now, you may be thinking that is too small; there is definitely more than six people in his family. By blood, yes you would be correct. I count a real family as people who would give their shirt off their backs for you. Those people in my life are my mom, dad, sister, grandpa, and grandma. The rest of my blood relatives are what you could say, “hypocrites”- they say one thing to you and then their actions speak a completely different language. It’s like that one friend that says, “Bro, I’m outside.” but when you look out the window he isn’t within a mile from your house. At first it’s kind of funny, you joke around about it; but come that third and fourth time they do it you start losing trust in them and start taking everything they say with a grain of salt. Trust within my family is a huge characteristic for me and I believe that quality should be very important to everyone. Ontop of trust comes the momma rule that everybody should follow. The momma rule is, “I can talk back to my mom but if

would hurt me so much seeing my friend’s dads be there for them while mine was nowhere around. The question of why was I not good enough popped up into my head multiple times. My mom would always tell me that it was my dad’s loss. He was missing out on my life.

It seemed as if a war was happening right in the middle of our kitchen. Seeing the puddles of tears streaming down from my sister and I’s face was undoubtedly heartbreaking for my parents, but it was also heartbreaking for my sister and I to find out our parents were getting a divorce. Their screaming was loud and constant. I wish my walls were soundproof.

As early as I can remember my grandparents, whom my sisters and I called Mum and Pa were and are the most important people in my life. I have two sisters, my twin Kristine and my younger sister Debbie. I don’t have many memories of my dad and the one’s I do recall aren’t really nice ones, he was an alcoholic who wasn’t home much and when he was my mother and him would argue and end with him hitting her. Growing up I always felt that my mom favored my twin Kristine (not much as changed) and that my father favored Debbie, so where did this leave me. We lived in a suburban city and most days and nights my mother worked second and third shifts, probably so she wasn’t home when our father returned late at night drunk. My parent’s situation left the three of us alone quite often if it wasn’t for our amazing grandparents. Similar to the way I felt about the favoritism being shown was the same way my sisters felt about the relationship I had with our grandparents. The numerous occasions I ran away from home to a phone booth to call my grandfather to come get me, staying at their house for days just being happy and feeling special. We didn’t live in the best houses, I remember one home that used to be my fathers aunt and uncles house when we walked home from school with friends they would want to know what house and at first my sister and I would just say “oh it’s down there”. Finally, when I was in seventh grade my mother left our dad and we moved in with my grandparents.

I had never given much thought to my family and its place in history before. Sure, I had heard small anecdotes about relatives in the past, but I was too young to fully understand and appreciate their importance. Now, after having the opportunity to further educate myself, I am able to understand my rich family history in the context of the twentieth century. Additionally, learning about the events that my relatives witnessed and faced allows me to appreciate the constructs I was born into at the turn of the twentieth century, and the sense of stability I have experienced throughout my life. I now know that not long ago my ancestors left Russia to come to the United States for more opportunities, and that my great grandfather helped support his family through the Great Depression and bravely fought in World War Two. Also, I learned more about my grandparents and their first hand accounts and the roles they played during twentieth century events like the Cold War and Vietnam War. The separate roles and stories come together to tell a grand narrative that explains how and why my family reached its place in history today.

Sometimes it is difficult for kids to become really close with their grandparents, but for me it was easy. Ever since I met my grandpa, I have had this connection with Gramps that has just continued to grow. Most people have nicknames for their grandparents, but for me it is plain and simple, just Gramps. To me, he isn’t just my grandpa, he is one of my friends because of the impact he has had on my life. Gramps has turned me into who I am today. He has brown eyes that remind me of sweet chocolate, they are always so easy to picture in my mind. I could stare into his eyes for days and it would never get old. However, he has thick old glasses that cover his rich brown eyes. To go along with his eyes, he is always wearing his polo shirts, with all different types of khaki pants. His favorite polo is his pink polo, and when he wears it he always says, “real men wear pink.” Every time he says that, I still laugh no matter how many times that he has said it to me. To go along with his outfit, he wears old brown shoes all the time unless he is doing athletics.

My grandfather, Nunzio Mugavero, is the definition of strength. Unfortunately, my grandfather had a major stroke in 2012 and his short-term memory is completely wiped. Now my grandfather spends most of his days sitting in a retirement living complex listening to Frank Sinatra and asking my grandmother where the bathroom is in his apartment. This past Sunday my family and I celebrated his ninetieth birthday. At this party people told a variety of stories about my grandfather both funny and heartfelt. My biggest takeaway from this birthday was my realization of just how strong of a person my grandfather was and still is both literally and mentally. My grandfather truly is the strongest man I have known and his experiences have taught me that when life gets hard I must stay strong and persevere.

I remember the day my grandmas passed away. Eleven years ago, I was seating with my grandma in the stair case of our house. She was telling me a poem called "el trencito de madera" which was my favorite story. If you had seen me You would know I would never leave her side. But everything went dark for me the moment I knew she was gone it was the hardest day but she will always have a place in my heart. It all began on a Tuesday morning. My grandma was known by many people in our neighborhood everybody used to think of her as a mom so we would go out with chairs and just sit in the front of the house just watching everyone pass by and wave. My grandma was one of the people who had to take medicine because she was sick and even some time we would have to take her to the hospital and stay overnight because of her illness. But that day she felt worse than any other time she had to take medication, but she didn’t tell no one because she hated the hospitals.

Who doesn’t love a close relative? Imagine what it is like to be alone, without a supportive family member. Just like John Lennon’s song, Imagine. Think about what family can do to you, and how they impact your life. Especially, a grandmother.

The last time I saw my grandfather in person was summer of 2015. He was visiting our family in the US. I remember taking him to Washington D.C and we walked the whole day to all the museums and monuments. I was exhausted at the end of the day and I was surprised that he was able to keep up at age 72. Even about a month before he left, talking to him on video chat did not give me any indication that he was going away anytime soon. What’s remarkable about death is that it can come so suddenly. Let alone for others, even he probably did not expect his death to come so suddenly. For him, death means that he will go somewhere else depending on what his beliefs are. But for me, death of my grandparent is very strange. Normally when I go back to China, I would stay at his place. He is always around to handle the chores around the house and making demands of others because of his teaching background and stubborn personality. But this time when I came back, it wasn’t the same. The subconscious expectation I had was completely shattered. I no longer hear that loud shouting noise in the background, or that intellectual-toned conversation with his students. I realized that I took for granted to what has been there for a long time, and when I lost it, I felt extremely depressed.

Growing up as a child, I was raised by my aunt. Her name was Sally. My aunt and I never really got along. I didn’t know my real parents. I actually doubt that she was my real aunt. At the age of thirteen years old I found out the truth about my parents. She told me that they died in a car accident when I was only 4 months old. That was the only truth I knew about my parents. I was left with pictures of them and memories, which it wasn’t many memories I could remember because I was only 4 months old. It was hard growing up seeing kids with their mommies and daddies. I used to wonder why my life was different and why I was with my aunt.

The most inspiring person I have in my life is my grandfather, Raing Chhorm. He is a father of 3 beautiful daughters. His wife, which is my grandmother, name is Heang Sok and my grandfather always put his family first before his wellbeing. This man Is the most prideful human being I know he never asks others for help. The reasons I’m so inspired by my grandfather is because he’s openminded, courageous, loving.

Family. It’s one word that has a different significance for every individual. There’s multiple uncontrollable factors that can change crucial aspects of your personality, such as whether or not your parents are together or the number of siblings you have. These features can cause one to be either satisfied or discontented in their life. Most do not think about the stability of their family; after all, I never thought about it until mine began collapsing.

When I think of something or someone that I hold near and dear to my heart, I think of the one person that I go to for everything. My grandma is that person; she is my person. Her heart is why I adore her. My grandma would give anything to anyone, she supports me in everything I do, her kindness radiates throughout her, and she is the most dependable person I have in my life. I hold my grandma on a pedestal because she has always held me on hers.