Personal Narrative: How Grandpa Changed My Life

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view-until you climb into his skin and walk around in it”. I chose to shadow my grandfather because I do not know all that much about him. My grandpa has always seemed like a very interesting person but he does not open up easily. That is another reason i chose to shadow him. My grandpa is usually toiling with a black powder rifle or he is making his own guns or doing research on a weapon unknown to him.

My mother was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis at the age of 40, when I was in preschool. With very few memories prior to her diagnosis, living with MS was quite simply a fact of life. A single parent who was singularly dedicated to her three daughters, my mother trudged unwaveringly through all the symptoms, complications, and limitations her disease inflicted on her. For the most part she suffered in silence, her disease progression so slow and gradual that it was nearly imperceptible to us. She was our family’s rock, her faith in God strengthening her resolve to give us as normal a childhood as possible considering the situation. A sudden escalation of her symptoms when I was eleven altered our lives. Over the course of two months she lost

My father was a lifeguard, but not in my lifetime, so maybe loving the ocean was in our blood. As children we grew up in Brooklyn and we would go to Riis Park for our day at the beach. One very distinct memory is of my father as he stood waist deep in the ocean with my brother and sister; the waves periodically lifted and dropped them in the water at his side. Waist deep for my father meant it was well over my head so I remained a safe distance (or so I thought) behind them. Suddenly, a wave appeared and before I could turn and rush to the shoreline the ocean attacked. I found myself in a world of foam, pockets of air allowed me to breathe as I was tossed about like a wet sock in a dryer. Head over heals I tumbled, my skin scrapped by the crushed sea shells that covered the sand. After what felt like an eternity I found myself on the wet sand as the wave retreated out to sea; I’m pretty sure it laughed and gave me the finger as it left.

I am the oldest of four children and raised by a single mother. I had to grow up at an early age and help my mom take care of my siblings. My mother would work two to three jobs at a time to help support us, which usually meant that we were to be at the baby sitters house. Sometimes my mom would not pick us up because she had gotten off late and had to work early the next morning so it was just easier for us to stay at the baby sitters. I was okay with helping my mother out with my siblings but it was getting harder the older I got. Once I reached high school I had to go straight home so that I could be there when my siblings got home. Having to go home right away I could not join any clubs or hang out with my friends. Once I was a senior

When I was with Grandpa, I could be a child and yet see things through grown-up eyes. "You see that tree, Bud," he would say. "That tree was here before those houses.

For this week it was still a struggle for my grandma Bonnie to recall events. We were on the phone for about 10 minutes and it felt like she was disappointed that she was unable to recall her childhood at this stage. I decided to ask if she could tell me a story about any of my aunts or my dad again. My grandma wanted to tell me a story about my dad what she believed was when he was at the age of four or five. At this time my grandma had her hands full, she had five children, two who were recently born (twins) from her story of my dad. She went on to tell me it could be a struggle at times because my grandpa served our country and was always away while she stayed at home with the children living on an Airforce base. To lighten up on the

My dad is driving all the way to Minnesota to get a motorcycle. At least, that’s what I thought. He woke me and my brother up and showed us a picture of a motorcycle. To be honest, I thought that was what we were actually getting because we didn’t have any suitcases so it wasn’t a surprise vacation. I didn’t know we were getting a kitten. I did ask for one more than 5 times. My mom did show me a picture of a kitten that was ready to be adopted. Ok, I’m finished talking.

My family legacy all started when my dad decided to immigrate to the United States. Life was tough back in China during the 1980’s. The government was corrupt and all the ideologies from the government failed resulting in a mass famine that was widespread throughout the country. Both of my grandparents died when my dad was only fifteen years old and was forced to work with his siblings to support the family. They worked for twelve hours a day with no sleep and barely any wage. Finally, my dad had enough of it and was ready to move to the land of opportunity. He was ready to bring his hard work and determination to the United States.

I was in like 7th or 8th grade. One night, my mom comes and asks to pack for a night and get my shoes on. I ask her where we’re going. She wouldn’t tell me, so I didn’t get ready to go anywhere. Then my dad comes down and they start arguing. Earlier that day, my dad had drank like 2 beers while me and him were cleaning out our garage. We were going through some cabinets and there were bottles of alcohol in one. My dad took them inside to hide them inside because her and one of her friends had gotten drunk one night and her friend hit his head and fell down his steps. So as he was carrying them inside, my dad dropped one of the bottles and it fell down our step. Luckily it didn’t break. My dad and brother were arguing over something earlier

My grandpa, Frank, looks very tough and as some would say manly. My grandpa has a very masculine build. Even though my grandpa comes across as somewhat of a hard-ass, he is actually one of the most loving and sensitive people I know. He is one of those people that cry really easily, and at almost every family gathering he tears up. It was the day before opening day of deer hunting 2014. That day was a very snowy and windy day. My grandpa and I were driving up to our hunting cabin in Forbes, MN. The conditions were horrible for driving and very unsafe. The conditions caused us to have to drive very slowly, and the normally three-hour drive took us over four hours. The dive is not a very eventful and is very dull drive. About half way through our drive I remember one conversation that we had that will always stick with me. My grandpa tells me that the reason that he had built an amazing hunting cabin was for us the grandkids. He says “I hope and

My mom was chosen to be shadowed because she has always worked two jobs. When we moved, she decided to only have one job and go to school, which i am really glad of because she was very stressed. She seems to be a lot happier now that she only has to worry about one job. It would be nice to see how she works now that she is less tired from working 2 jobs and now only works that one. Another reason is because we don't really get to spend time together with her working and school.

In the fall of 2015 I reunited with my on-again off-again relationship with running. At the same time I started doing boot camp classes which I had never tried before. I’m not sure if it was an improper box jump or a wrong step down the road, but I began to notice my knee clicking when I walked up the stairs. After waiting (probably a little too long) I decided to go to my doctor because the clicking wasn’t going away. The ultrasound showed fluid on the knee, also known as prepatellar bursitis. She said it shouldn’t take long to heal as long as I rest and ice my knee as well as avoid doing any strenuous weight bearing activities such as “jumping around” or kneeling. As a yoga teacher it was hard to avoid doing any type of kneeling but I stopped running and going to

When Mommy helped Sarah into her favorite pajamas – of course the denim blue flannel ones with big, patched pockets, and put her to bed, she took her temperature.

Grandpa would retire the flag when dusk came over. He’d walk through the turquoise of the front door and he’d struggle only slightly to turn the weary handle with a hand made blue by the slow veins painting the translucent paper palette of his skin. He’d cross the browns and greens which were his lawn, sometimes swampy from the spurting-spewing of the sprinklers that he could not fix forever, towards his nation’s symbol drooping nobly in the hot and windless air of the San Fernando Valley, where life is eighty degrees but still feels cold and lonely in the sea of homes and houses that never seems to end.

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.