Remember To Remember

Anyone that came in contact with him, could tell that was his biggest and most honorable trait. He knew when enough was enough, he knew when to leave the bar, and he also knew when his granddaughters wanted attention and affection from him. Growing up across the street from my grandpa, I was able to watch and observe him go through many stages of life. He was my biggest trainer of moderation, self-discipline, and love. He may not have always stopped when others thought he should and he may not have spent as much time with us as we thought we deserved, but he knew the right things to do for himself or other. I was so easily influenced as a child, that I was affected by the right and wrong things I would see happening. While my grandpa didn’t always do the right thing, he always showed me how it was wrong and what I could do to make it

Weeks later, sorrow spread throughout all branches of the family. Grandmama passed on and the family gathered once again for the funeral. Several relatives flew in from Mexico and those from northern California returned. The funeral was filled with tears, but there was also joy at seeing relatives whom my mother, aunts, and grandmothers had not seen in many years. Although the reason for assembly was heartbreaking, my family, young and old, came together to celebrate the life of

The week when I was in Cherokee, North Carolina, my grandfather was hospitalized having a heart attack. I was shocked when my mother called my brother and I coming on the way back home that he had passed away. Then a week after my grandmother passed away. My grandmother, who has been sick for about four or five years, had lung cancer and had problems with her kidney’s. She always had a smile on her face no matter if she was in pain.

I never really knew my grandpa as well as I would have liked. He was already an old, old man by the time I started high school, and my own memories of him are mostly of a man confined by age and ailing health. So I'm not really going to talk about my memories of him. Instead, I'm going to try to share his memories and the memories of those that knew him.

It’s August 28th, 2015 I had just moved to Grand Valley State University two days ago. Its 6:15am. My cell phone is ringing. It was my brother and I thought it was too early for him to be calling me, so I sent his call to voicemail, it rang again, I thought to myself, “Why on earth is he calling me at 6:15 in the morning it’s too early for this”, So I finally decided to answer the call and I got the news that my grandma passed away. It wasn’t totally unexpected, she was on hospice care an entire week before I left for college and I’ve watched her slowly deteriorate because of Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s disease, and dementia.

My Grandfather died on December 5th, 2015. I was 15 at the time and I had only just started highschool as a junior a few months prior. I didn’t get to see him recently before his death, nor was I able to say goodbye to him before his passing. Instead, I got to wait patiently while the man I respected for so long took his last breath. I watched as he passed away, right in front of my eyes.

My grandma had survived a hard life, and yet managed to raise four responsible, well-educated, and successful children. All this she did while working as a respected psychiatric nurse and a state mental health board member. Although she had had and was still overcoming trials in life, I always knew she would be there and cared about me and my life. As my brother and I grew older and were unable to visit my grandparents as often as we

The day that my Grandpa passed away started out like any other day. My mom and I went to visit him daily, just because we wanted to spend time with him. It was August 11th so, summer was coming to an end. My mom, Grandma and I were sitting and waiting for him, in his hospital room, to get back from the tests that he had that day. Everything seemed fine. He looked great. My mom and I were only able to talk to him for a few minutes, sadly, before they had to take him away again for more tests. We said our good-byes, not knowing that they would be our last, and we left. When we were at the stop light at 75th and Washington, we got a call.

It was the end of the weekend. Her dad had been drinking a lot, so she decided to leave for the night with her friends. When she came back on Monday at dawn, he was sitting on her bed waiting for her daughter to enter the room and gave her a lesson that she would never forget. The next day she decided without telling anyone but her mother to leave the house and never come back, not until my grandfather would still be a part of this world. Weeks later, she

Grandpa is almost ninety-five and now resides in a nursing home. The leg he fractured forty years ago is too weak to carry his weight. His eyes are going bad. But to me he's still the big, strong man who used to take his grandchild in his arms and rock to

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

The crunch of frozen grass could be heard a mile away at five o’clock in the morning. My grandpa and I whispered conversation as we strolled over to our favorite deer blind. We cautiously marched over sticks trying hard not to make any sounds. We eventually made it without spooking any deer and set our guns down, waiting for sunrise. These are the times I enjoy the most with my grandpa. It is a chance to sit back and enjoy life with one of my favorite people on this planet. Time goes slower in these moments. It gives us a chance to share conversation about anything. We swap stories from the past and I always seem to learn something new from my grandpa. Whether it be from advice he gives me or from an experience long ago, I’m always listening. Although our experiences may be different we still love to enjoy the same hobbies together, whether it’s woodworking, hunting, or time out on the lake; sharing life with my grandpa is priceless.

For many people, Grandpa is a storyteller, someone to go fishing with, and someone who has your back no matter what. The experience I had with my grandpa was a little different. I never got the opportunity to meet my great-grandfather Liston Grider, but he still somehow managed to have a huge impact on my life. Sometimes my mom would tell stories about him; happy memories from her childhood, sad ones that were painful for her to tell, and everything in between. I thought I had heard it all, but this past summer I learned something about my great grandpa that would perhaps impact my life forever. This story was not told by my mom like usual, but by someone who was a complete stranger to me. The lessons I learned would not be taught in a single day, but over the span of a month through a series of Facebook messages and letters in the mail. The words I read upon opening those messages and letters would change my life forever, permanently transform my beliefs, and show me what it truly means to be an American.

October 10th, 2013 at 7:30pm. The day of my grandma death. The day that changed my life forever. The day I will never forget. My grandma was my everything, she was the lady who raised me since I was born. I never had a mother or father, the only person who cared for me was my grandma. The day my grandma died I was in my senior year of high school and I had just came home from cheerleading practice. That was an unusual day for me because when I woke up that morning my grandma wasn't up cooking breakfast like she usually does she was in her bed asleep still. I looked outside and the sun was just rising. I went in her room that morning before I left for school and said these exact words, "Good morning grandma if you’re not feeling well, I could stay home with you and take you to the doctor." In a raspy low voice my grandma replied, "Good morning sweetie I'm okay I was just feeling a little sick this morning but I'm better now. You better get to school now before you are late.” Okay, Grandma Love you, call me if you need me", I replied. On my way to school all I thought about was why my grandma sounded like that this morning and how she wasn't up doing her normal routine. I have never seen my grandma get sick before. She was always the one taking care of me making sure I was okay. But I just pushed the feeling over just thinking my grandma was okay and I was just overthinking. I should've stayed home that day. I should've noticed that my grandma really was sick.

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.