The Death Of Grandma Singer

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.

When I look back at my childhood I cannot picture it without you. You have helped shaped who I am today and for that I thank you. When I think of you i think about all the love that you have to give. I am so lucky to have you in my life and I will always cherish the memories that I have with you.

I can still remember the sound in my mother’s voice the day she called to tell me that Stacy had been shot. She asked me if I was sitting down. The words that came through the phone were slow and piercing as if a tape recorder had been put on slow play back. Comprehending what was being said to me felt like

Religion has always been around for many years and will continue to live on. Since 2014, there are an estimated 4,200 different religions, all over the world each believing in different things Having their own set of rules and tradition that must be followed. Storytelling became a way to give people advice or telling people what would happen if they disobey their religious rules or tradition. In the story of a grandmother, it critiques religion for the way it can lead to snap judgments and a loss of freedom.

“My eyes filled with tears, I thought of my brother, and i thought of my stepfather, who was probably scrubing a piece of furniture with a wad of steel wool, is knuckles a nest of wiry fibers. I thought of Mom with a telephone to her ear, and my dead father on his rack of blackness, lighting up the earth with his glow of bones.”(Page 101)

Yet,it only washed away a few;the easy sorrows,but the effusive pains remained.Suddenly without warning,a vivid memory of my mother rushed to my mind and my heart constricted.

“MOM WHERE ARE WE GOING!!!” I said, feeling like I could burst at any moment it's a horrible thing to be car sick when you don't know what to do about it. “Don't worry dolly we will be there any second now” said Sharon,  but I just know her as mom. “I think i'm dying!” I said, sinking into the back car seat. Mom didn't say anything as with my brother they  just smiled. I wondered if they could see something I couldn't so I forced my body to sit up and unbuckle my seatbelt as my eyes lit up as if I saw an angel. It felt like everything was in slow motion. For months now I've been dying to go to Six Flags for one day and today was that day! “Do you feel better deer or should we go back home” mom said with an evil smile glancing at me through

Her death was so unexpected for me, even though looking back now it probably shouldn’t have been. In the early morning of October 10, 2008, my mom came in my room and woke me up with Cocoa Pebbles on a tray that we barely ever used. I hadn’t yet noticed her red-rimmed eyes and distant behavior as my attention was solely focused on the food in front of me. Suddenly she had blurted it out, as if she had thought of no other way to say it. “Sammie… passed away last night.” It took me a few seconds to comprehend the magnitude of what she was saying, but when I did I got that feeling like someone had my throat in a tight hold. To this day, whenever I think about Sammie I get that feeling again. Back then I had the naïve mentality that dying at a young age was a rare thing and that death only happened when you’re older, when you’ve lived a full life. I took that for granted.

As this performance drew to a close, Patti and her grandfather embraced each other, leaving me with an everlasting image of these two people inextricably connected by their grief and loneliness. Perhaps, it enlightened me to the power of love, through connection to family, but nonetheless it was a powerful moment, that resonated deeply with

I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.

There she stands, all of five feet tall, short brown hair set in pin curls, dressed in modern day slacks and a flower print shirt. She is fierce, never afraid to speak her mind; she is my hero; she saved my life; she is my Grandma. Growing up was not an easy task for me, but my grandma made it so much easier. She would drive her four-door, tan Buick fifty miles one way from the small factory town of Warsaw, Indiana, to the college city of South Bend, Indiana, every weekend to retrieve me. She would pack me in the front seat of the car, opening the door, the familiar scent of grandma 's rose perfume mixed with her lemon air freshener greeted me like an old friend. Having my Grandpa sit in the back, due to the fact I got car sick. We would head off to the Kmart to buy my shoes, socks, underpants, and whatever else I may need. My mother figured it was my father 's job to provide me with these items, but since it was my Grandma picking me up, the burden fell upon her. This beautiful spitfire of a woman never complained, and if she

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s

Late night phone calls never end well, and this one was no exception. My mom answered the shrill ring of the landline early one Wednesday morning and was greeted by her sisters solemn voice. Aunt Mary told her that their mother wasn’t able to swallow food anymore; an obvious problem that had all the more meaning to her. Barely a month before, grandma’s sister, my Great Aunt Maureen, after a long period of declining health, quickly passed away after loosing her ability to swallow. It seemed that grandma would follow her sister’s example. Mom hung up the phone, the weight of the world settling around her shoulders, and booked a flight for the small Irish town she grew up in.

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.