Speech On The Night Phone Calls Essay

mother died of lung cancer. After these devastating events took place, it was a phone call from her twin sister Becka, and knowing that therapy alone or coupled with AA weren’t enough to break her physical and emotional addiction with alcohol, that

It all began with a simple phone call one night after dinner, “Joe,” my father hollered up the stairs, “it’s for you. It’s Jackie, and she sounds upset.” As I came downstairs to pick up the phone, I was not happy. I was tired and had looked forward to a nice quiet evening at home, not another stupid adventure with Jackie.

The parents came out of Grandma’s room by one by one, bags under their eyes, makeup running down their face, and bright red noses. By that time, I could almost predict what happened. As my mom and dad approached us with their heads down, I prepared myself to hear exactly what I never wanted to hear. “The doctors are turning off the life support machine. She isn’t suffering anymore, and she will be looking over every one of you guys. She said she loves you all so much,” Mom told us while my dad didn’t hide his tears back.

On April 28, 2015 we took our yearly Portland, Oregon trip to pick up my sister from college. The day we departed Maui was coincidentally Rosaline’s special day, her birthday. It was hard as I left the island knowing that it was her birthday. Three days later on May 1, 2015 we were reunited with my sister, Danae, and on a road trip between Portland and Washington. The travel of funniest has ended. Jokes, laughs, smiles, they all came to a rapid halt. My grandmother, Rosaline’s daughter, accompanied us and suddenly received a phone call. The Maui Police Department called and said that my great grandma Deponte had passed away a few hours prior. No emotion came from my family and no tears left my eyes once we heard the devastating news; we were just completely shocked! At the time, she had been staying at an old folks home called “Roselani Place” in Kahului. Luckily, one of my family members in Maui was available and rushed down to be with her. Ballards Family Mortuary had been at Roselani, and gently held my petite grandma until my aunty Lesli Otani arrived.

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

It all began with a simple phone call one night after dinner. “John,” my father hollered up the stairs, “It’s for you. It’s Jackie, and she sounds distressed.” As I came down the stairs to pick up the phone, I was not happy. I was tired and had looked forward to a nice quiet evening at home, not another stupid adventure with Jackie.

My grandma Linda was her only daughter. I spent weeks at Ma’s house in Holstein, Iowa. Christmas for the Grell’s was always hosted at Ma’s house. When I was young she would take me swimming at the communities pool, and ice cream afterwards. Ma’ was an expert cook, her favorite summer dish was fried chicken. She was nearly famous for that fried chicken. In September of 2012 Doctors discovered a tumor in Ma’s liver. Ma’s children paid for an assisted living home in Sioux City, Iowa. She pasted away March 21, 2013. Leading up to March the relationship between my mother and her parents decrepitated. My grandparents refused to come to my high school graduation.

The part of this that tore me apart the most was that I couldn’t even go to her funeral, it was on the first day of classes, and grandpa told me to stay at college and not go to the funeral because it’s what grandma would want. This broke my heart. I thought I was a horrible granddaughter. I went with my grandpa’s wishes even though it was the most difficult decision I have ever made.

I answered. “Mija, where’s your grandma? Go get her now! It’s important.” that’s all I remembered from that phone call, but the moment I handed my grandmother the phone I saw her bright smile turn into the world’s most darkest frown. Out of the speck of my eyes, I saw small tears running down her face, with big worries she ran quickly to get a sweater and her purse.

Grandmother Ella has been dealing with cancer for years now and has tried alternative remedies and juicing. She went into remission for some time, but now the cancer has returned and she is in the hospital. Her husband, of American Indian descent, has his ideas about what needs to be done as Ella comes to the end of her life. Ella has her preferences, though she is now so weak that she has given up in many ways. The family members are each experiencing their own fears and are grieving as they face the loss

Ring, Ring, Ring… every time I hear that sound in the middle of the night, I am terrified to answer my phone; I am waiting for the call where someone says “Andy has died from an overdose.” Andy is my stepbrother, he has been battling his heroin addiction since we were fifteen years old, and I have seen firsthand how this disease can rip a family apart. Andy’s addiction has inflicted such tremendous stress and hurt on my parents and watching them try to help him recover from this addiction is heartbreaking. It is heartbreaking because I am powerless to help heal our family; I would not wish this pain on my worst enemy, because my stepbrother’s addiction has been one of the greatest trials of my own life.

I woke that morning knowing that many tears would run down my cheeks and many hugs would be given. Even though we were remembering a beautiful life, I absolutely despised the fact that everyone was calling this a “funeral”. To be completely honest, we were not honoring a dead person. In fact, we were celebrating the most delicate life God could give someone. I was not attending a funeral, I was going to a celebration and this is why we all wanted it to be the most put together, family orientated gathering as we would rejoice in the life of our dearly beloved Faythe. Thinking back, I remember towards the end of the day when all the guests had gone home and it was just us family gathered together. I was listening to stories of grandma, hearing all the little chitter, and seeing everyone with a grin on their faces. You know why? Because great grandma Faythe would forevermore have the gift of setting a smile on our faces. Whether she was with us or not, laughing or crying. She would always make us happy. Even if she would outplay us in a game of Skip-

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.

I only ever had three grandparents. I had my mom’s parents, and on my dad’s side I just had my grandmother. She went through a very rough divorce when my dad was younger. My dad’s dad never tried to try to be a part of our lives, so we didn’t try either. After elementary school, I didn’t get to see my grandmother as often. I was starting to get a lot busier with school and sports. A couple of years have gone by, and I am still very busy, but I have always tried my hardest to make sure I still spend some time with her. In my eighth-grade year of school, I found out that she was diagnosed with dementia. “There are an estimated 24 million people living with some sort of dementia worldwide, and yet dementia is one of the least-understood brain disorders” (Shea). I find it crazy that dementia has been around since 1906 and it is one of the least-understood brain disorders in the world. It has

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.