Personal Narrative: Wrong With Grandma

Both my parents burst through the doors, looking slightly concerned. “Mehak, why are you screaming?” My mom questioned. My eyes started to get watery, thinking of all the terrible possibilities, and I got a feeling in my gut that something was wrong. “Grandpa... H-he...w-were t-talking a-and h-he started c-coughing a-and the l-line w-went d-dead.” I stuttered, not knowing what to think. My dad flew out of the room, probably to contact my grandma about what was going on.

My aunt hugged her mother’s body and screamed continuously as her daughter’s hugged her from behind. I began to cry too, mainly from the commotion since I was a little too young to notice what was going on. My mother was strong, though, she patted her sister’s back while comforting me. How was she so strong? I still don’t know, and I’ve never asked.

Surprisingly, her strangled and dying voice managed to travel that far. I snapped my head to the door which lay open, I guess I forgot to close it last night, which I was very exhausted from, just thinking about it made the feeling creep back inside me. Pushing the warm covers off me which took some strength because I am not a morning person in the slightest bit, although my mother needs attention. Slapping my feet against the hard wood floor and dragging my hand across the wood banister not caring about the thundering noise that echoed through the house from the impact, I came to my mother's side awaiting for her directions. She is the only one that I look at with my other eyes, my coloured eyes. The eyes that have caring, sensitivity, and hope in them, no one else sees them, I find them too valuable for a stranger's soul, to easy to

Pale skin and bloodshot eyes stared at me as tears flooded down her cheeks. Hysterical screams echoed through the house, blasting in my ears like a startling boom from a firework on the Fourth of July. At the bottom of the stairs I stood, grasping tightly to my younger sister's hand. Confused, I asked her, “What’s wrong?”.

A shrill cry echoed in the distance. That was very strange thing to be heard in the quiet apartment Annie lived in.Annie is a very quiet and lonely girl, yet she was also very curious and wanted to help anybody she could. Annie was just getting home from the grocery store. She heard the cry but didn’t think much of it. She got all her groceries up into her apartment and all put away. She decided she would walk down the hall a little and see where the cry came from. She stepped into the hallway and the floorboards creaked under her feet. She pulled the door until it clicked. She started walking down the hallway her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. She began quietly whistling to herself while rubbing her fingers up along the wall, making a slight scratching sound. She turned the corner to the 0600 hallway. She continued walking down the hall. She reached room 0684, when she heard the crying louder. She immediately stopped whistling and listened closely to the crying. She slowly and quietly put her ear up against the door. As she leaned closer to the door the floor beneath her creaked real loud and echoed through the hall. The crying had paused for only a second and began again. She grabbed the cold metal handle of the apartment door and turned the handle very slowly. As the door opened it creaked and squeaked throughout the quiet apartment. After Annie got the door completely propped open she noticed the lights glistening on the floor. She walked toward the glistening,

I slowly turned the first page of the worn and fragile book. The Instrument contained numerous words of wisdom, or so I had heard from my biological grandma, I lifted it to my face. Did it hold the solution to my problems? The woman of my childhood was convinced that it did. It smelled of leather with lingering traces of tobacco. Grandma held the book often, I remembered, envisioning her in my mind many years past, when I went for a visit to my grandparents house. After supper she sat in the rocker near the fireplace, from time to time taking a break from her reading to step outside and smoke. I didn't like the smell of the cigarettes. Never the less that was the way grandma was. She was an intriguing woman. She didn’t say much in her later

One of the most nerve-racking moments of my life was when I found out my grandma had colon cancer. I knew something was wrong from the point she told me that something was upsetting her stomach. She finally went to the doctor and then had a CAT scan, which found nothing. Then she was taken to the hospital for a colonoscopy, and diagnosed with colon cancer. I couldn’t believe what was happening, I love my grandma so much and this really hit me hard.

After roasting marshmallows, the sticky sweet on my sons' fingers, my father stares into the coals, starts talking about his mother, my grandmother, my sons' great-grandmother. He tells of how she fought her death to the end, even under the morphine drip. Nonverbal tantrums on her bed.

My grandma, Awi, was a smoker. She couldn’t stop smoking. I felt bad, but my sympathy for her grew tremendously when she was diagnosed with lung cancer. I was so depressed to see my family suffer, especially my father. My dad loved my grandma dearly that he would stop at nothing to make her feel comfortable, and he would even take the precaution to not allow her to walk by herself since she was so weak and tired. I didn’t understand why, but I was willing to help my grandma She always said, “I will be there to see you graduate.” I felt bad. When she died, I and my family suffered greatly. My dad always told me “you never know how much someone means to you until they're gone.” I’ve never seen my dad and uncle cry so much at the private service.

This book makes bad behavior seem funny and hence encourages young children to emulate the behavior. I hoped and hoped and hoped the the boy would see the error of his ways but he doesn't. He allows his friend to "take one for the team" when he doesn't come clean about terrorizing the kindergarteners. He thinks its ok that Grandma's house got TPed for something he did becuase she's retired and has nothing better to do then clean up the mess anyway. At every turn this kid makes the wrong choices, blames someone else, hopes he won't get caught next time and there are no real consequences for his actions. His last little act of kindness, at the end of the book, did nothing to make up for all the poor choices he made throughout the book. Would

“When I was alive, everything my grandmother did was bad. But an odd thing happened when she arrived in her rented limo that day, opened up out house, and braged in. She was, in all her obnoxious finery, dragging the light back in.” (100) It was the day of my memorial and my Grandma Lynn had came a few days before it. My grandma is the queen of fashion so she made sure everyone in my family was going to look their absolute best for my memorial. I love my family so much, that it just brings me pain to have to see them so depressed. I am glad that my grandma can bring some light back into their dark world. I just want them to know that I am with them always, even though they can not see me. I am happy that my grandma was able to lighten up the

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

As the family van speeds down the road, we pass familiar farm after farm that signal our approach to grandpa and grandma’s farm. We near the top of the final hill, and the smilie barn comes into view, the faded red wall with a white face painted at the top. I wiggle in my seat, my legs bouncing my red “Going to Grandma’s” overnight bag, with its little house and tree painted on the front. The van slows as an old white farmhouse comes into view, with black trim and chipping paint. As we turn onto the uneven drive, the little puppy comes zooming into view. We leap out of the car. “Snickers!” I cry, squatting to scratch her white and black spotted belly. Her tiny stub of a tail wags as fast as it can as she greets her favorite kids. Looking

I will tell you a tale of a woman of great success. This is a woman that has inspired me to be something great one day and to never give up trying. Though she may be growing into her elderly years she has lived a very challenging, joyful, loving and successful life. She is a woman of great faith and character, she is my grandmother.