Personal Narrative: Grandpa's Death

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,

I wait at the door. I put on my solemn, grim face, I cannot let these children see me as a soft women. I am anything but that, well I guess I am, but we all need to hide our inner emotions some how. My useless husband, Hans, mumbles, “I see the car”. We step outside, most people think Hans and I are crazy for opening our home to these two children, but every little bit of money that we can earn helps. Plus, they can help with the laundry, I think and smile.

When you think of losing a grandparent in your life, you think of them passing away. You dread the day you will get the call that they are sick. You then begin to cherish all the moments you have with them leading up to their passing. You have time to except their sickness, and come to terms with the outcome that is to come. My PopPop is not here anymore, but do not get confused, for he is alive. I did not have warning. I did not have time to cherish him. I did not have time to say goodbye. My PopPop was on no medication, which was almost uncanny for a 75-year-old. Trying to encompass everything he was boils down to a few things that may not seem like much to someone who didn’t know him. He went on a walk every night after dinner, and would whistle the same tune when he was happy. He played the same little ditty on the piano every time we were all in the living room. He was a simple man who could not harm a fly, and a good man. Unlike the grandchild warned when they are going to lose a grandparent, I did not have this notice. I did not have time to go on one last walk with him, and I did not have time to record him on the piano. I did not have time to replicate his whistling song, or to spend time with the man I knew. My PopPop was the heathiest man I knew, but then he got depression. First slowly, then all at once. The man I knew had slipped from my fingers without any chance to hold on tighter.

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

The most impactful event I experienced, was the loss of my father. I lost my father as a result of homicide, but he had made choices that kept him from being in my life. As a child, I saw my father every month and I enjoyed it: I had two sisters, I could hang out with and play with our dolls. My father could be a loving and great person when he chose to be.

Cozy coffee shops, warm summers, friendly hugs…1.2.3. Disastrous events occur all the time. We are always aware that someone, somewhere in the world, is hurtling forwards into tragedy. Tragic endings leave behind unanswered questions, unfulfilled dreams, unspoken thoughts. Those who love you are left behind, in the dust of your presence, spent to forever remember only your memory, not your existence. Crisp slices of toast, piping hot cups of tea, fresh strawberries…1.2.3. We all tend to forget an end exists. We spend our lives compiling as many happy memories as we can, fully enjoying the good days, deeply mourning the sad ones. When tragedy strikes, only then are we reminded that the end is there, and we scurry and try once again to make the most out of

I remember it as if it happened yesterday. The strange sound of my mom's phone was loud and alarming. I decided to ignore it and go back to sleep. Soon after I went back to sleep, my mom came in my room. I sat up in my bed with my eyes half opened, and I remember the puzzled look on her face. It was frightening like if she had just been told something unexpected and upsetting. And at that exact moment, I knew exactly what she was going to say, and I froze in fear. She sat next to me and nervously mumbled ¨Your grandma passed away¨. I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to believe it. The exact same four words kept repeating over and over in my head and I felt like the whole world was spinning. Without even realizing, I then found myself bawling my eyes out. I had so many mixed emotions. I was heartbroken, I was angry and I was upset. My mom told me to get dressed since we were going to the hospital but I refused to go. I was upset and all I wanted to do was to be alone. My mom then left after having a talk with me about my grandma. I started to feel better and I was starting to accept that things happen for a reason, but it also started to feel like there was a huge hole in my

My dad picked me up from school that day. I felt really uncomfortable trying to ask if he had heard anything about my mom. He felt really uneasy and I knew something was up. I just thought that mom was hurt and he was trying not to alarm me. Once we got home he told me to “Sit down. I have important news to tell you.” I responded “Why do I have to sit down.” “Just do as I say” He said. I sat down pretty confused. “ Your mother is dead son. I knew how much you loved her and she meant to you.”He said. When I processed what he said my entire world came crashing

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

The call was from the hospital. We suspected something horrible had happened. I started crying right there. My mom turned the car around and sped back to Good Samaritan hospital. At around 1:15 my mom and I rushed into the hospital and ran back onto the floor that he was on. My mom got there first, she stopped in the doorway and that’s when I knew something was wrong. I started to sob harder. I fell to the floor sobbing into my hands. When I heard my Grandma cry out in anguish, I knew it was all over for my Grandpa. I

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.

The morning was gloomy and cold. Today was November 22nd at the Hope Lutheran Church. Today, my family and I were attending Grandma’s memorial service. My family looked so cleaned up and fancy. I thought if this wasn’t a memorial service we were going to, we looked like we were going to a fancy dinner. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the latter. All 14 of us piled into two separate cars and headed on our way. I felt empty and hollow approaching the church. Today would be the day that my family and I would shed waterfalls streaming from our eyes. The church had felt homely and rustic before, but now it felt dark and sad. Grandma didn’t deserve to die, I thought, as I went through the doors of the church. The church felt warm inside, like a warm blanket from the dryer. Why is 2014 such a bad year for us? Why did Uncle Mike die? Why

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 clearly remember the day I found out about my granddad's passing. I was at school. It was a normal, joyful day. My dad was planning on picking me up, but instead my friend's mom picked me up. He would not tell me why, but I did not think much of it. I remember the car ride to my house. My friend's mom would not tell me why she was driving me home; all she told me was, "Just know, Ryan, that we will be here for you no matter

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.