Personal Narrative : My Grandmother And I Share A Special Connection

Decent Essays
I was born in the United Stated so by default I never met any of my grandparents. My parents and I are immigrants from Somalia, and my maternal Grandmother resided in Kismayo, the port city of south Somalia. My Grandmother and I share a special connection, we share the same name, we are Sammi. My Mother says I have her eyes and hair, my mother told me she had the most vibrant brown eyes as a young woman, and when she grew in age, her eyes turn light blue with a dark blue ring around her iris. We only had one picture of her until my Mother went back and visited in 2007 and then we had so many. My Grandmother was 92 when she died, she had my Mother, the oldest of her four children late in life. I have always wanted to visit Somalia.…show more content…
My heart rate became elevated because I knew if any of the scenarios were true, I would be helpless in helping them. I didn’t have a car, I didn’t know anyone to call to pick me up, I would be stuck. “Don’t make a scene.” My Mother whispers to me. “What do you mean?” I asked. Does she have someone watching me? I look around frantically. “Remember, don’t make a scene.” She continues. “Your grandmother has passed away.” And everything stopped and came crashing down, I stopped breathing, my heart rate plummeted and I dropped my shopping cart. The last thing that would every occurred to me happened. I lost my grandmother. I lost my grandmother. I would never meet my grandmother. Then I realized that I couldn’t feel my legs, I wanted to collapse on the floor. I wanted to fall on the ground, but I could feel them. I saw people looking at me, their eyes, those judging eyes, those judging eyes looking at me. I wanted them to disappear and for the staring to stop. But that would cause a scene and my mother wouldn’t want that. “Fadumo, Fadumo, Hooya, don’t draw attention to yourself.” So I straightened my back. But my legs felt shaky, they felt untrustworthy. “Yes, Mother.” My voiced sounded so mechanical. I wanted to cry and cry and cry. But I couldn’t not in the middle of the shoe aisle. My eyes burned, but I held my tears back. A few escaped and they were immediately
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