The Disease Eating Me from the Inside Out

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.

I made my way to my aunt’s house. Her home smelled of fresh cut pine, and she offered me a cup of coffee with a cinnamon stick in it. I accepted, and we went to the kitchen table and discussed our week. As she talked, I looked out her kitchen table. A small oak grew in the front yard. Snow capped the birdfeeder beside her bird bath.

The summer rain of San Luis Potosí, México, made it almost impossible to go outside and enjoy the city without getting drenched, so Abuelito, Silence, and I together in one room, enjoying our second return to our hometown. He sat on his chair and I lay on the bed, calmly looking through the family albums. Bookshelves filled with books from my mother’s and uncles’ university courses and my Abuelita’s books from her teaching years covered one wall. It remained the same ever since we moved to the United States. The same TV. The same bed sheets. The only things that changed was my grandpa’s ability to walk and me. I gained height and weight and well, he has gotten older and weaker. I have lived my whole life with him by my side but do I really

For a moment, I was transported back to my grandmother’s house in Small Town, Tennessee. I could smell the fresh Earth and hear all of the different livestock, fowl and outside dogs that guarded the animals, just as they did the house, from any predators. I recalled being a little girl dancing like no one watched, dreaming up inventions,

Any illness should be treatable. Everyone should have the chance to be able to recover

The story Mrs. Hribar shared was about the meaning of goodbye to her and her family. Mrs. Hribar’s grandparents lived in Florida and she only got to see them at most once a year. Whenever she would leave, she would get really upset, and her grandma would say “we’re not saying, goodbye we’re just saying see you later”. Her father was strict when she was growing up and often wasn’t home because he worked a lot. She treasured the tender moments with, because they were rare. Especially the time they cuddled on the couch and watch the original Star Trek, and when he took the family to see the first Star Wars movie. Her father softened up as he got older, especially when he started to have health issues. He was a survivor of prostate cancer and had endured many heart surgeries. One day he was having chest pains so he went to the hospital to have it checked and had an aneurysm in his heart causing him to die the next day. At first she was angry that she didn’t get to say goodbye, but at his funeral her mother told her to say her goodbyes to her father, and then she really understood the phrase her grandmother always used to say to her. She was

My grandparents live in an old apartment which is surround by orderly and crowded houses that has aged through time. As I mentioned, the apartment they lived in is special and honorable since it was provided by the company that my grandparents worked with. “Paper Machinery Company”, as what my grandfather said when I asked him where he works, with a proud smile stapled on his face. Three blocks away from the building where my grandparents work their hearts out is where you’ll find my heaven. It is surrounded with a variety of colorful fruits, and freshly picked soil stained vegetables. I could still remember the strong smell of the salt stinking fish when I passed by that crowded market. My family who comes from my father’s side worked there three generations ago. My grandfather was a senior engineer; this house was given by the factory director as a gift. From the first floor to fifth, every family member that lived in that building had a similar but different background. Some of the family members were leaders from the factory, and some were designers. When I was young, I spent most of my days at my grandparents’ house when my parents went to work for a living. I always watch people hurriedly walk out from their doors with different colors, and rushed into the narrow small gates, and get on the bus. They never forgot to wear their smile as they leave their

The trip was an unwelcome necessity, and my nineteen-year-old twins were given the choice not to go. “Mom, of course we want to go with you!” they both said. “None of the goodness you’ve taught us, shown us, and given us means anything if we can’t be there for family.”

I caught the first flight to Texas and quickly adapted to the atmosphere surrounding my new home. The country town is full of love and joy, something I haven’t experienced in way too long. The houses are scrunched together like sardines, but that’s the way the people like it

I have no words. I was expecting this, but not this soon.”Umm,” I respond. “I, uh, what?” Then I start bawling. I didn’t know what to do. It felt like everything was changing. “NO! YOU CAN’T!” I yell as I run 10 feet to my room, thinking about the even smaller homes I’m going to live in. I slam the door. I hear my parents talking quietly

They had been driving for 10 hours and were dieing to get out of the cramped minivan. The only stops that had been made was for quick bathroom breaks and to get gas. Other than that it was nonstop driving.

Hence, since the dawn of my perceptual abilities, I have encountered father’s disappearance with reasonable comfort, spent most of my childhood living with grandparents and soon adapted quickly with the elders’ style of living, that is, moving calmly and slowly. At the time, my house located near a

Peering hopefully out the window yet again, I watched as my dad eagerly entered his truck without hesitation. As loud as a distant gunshot, its engine interrupted the previously calm evening. Down the driveway and onto the dusty, old dirt road, he disappeared to a familiar place where he remained until dark. I patiently waited for his return so I could ask about what he had seen. Imagining the beautiful scenery that was described to me provided a connection unlike any I have ever had before with my dad. Spending as much time as possible together was important to me; I was finally ready to accomplish this activity with him and make him proud.

Every movement the seadweller made, every single one of his actions were being monitored by Gamzee as if he were a sadistic predator staring upon prey that knew it had been caught; but was still trying to provide resistance to something inevitable. His lip curled back to reveal a row of sharper than sharp fangs, the juggalo growling out a purr under his heavy breaths as he watched Eridan squirm beneath him and unintentionally back himself further up against the wall. Now that only motivated the clown to keep doing what he was doing. The fact that Eridan wouldn't be able to tell anyone about his little escapade with Gamzee without getting a culling fork jabbed against his throat was obviously one that the subjugglator was well aware of. Besides,

It was a hot, sticky, end of July day; and I was in for a sandy time. I was in Ocean City, Maryland, with my grandmother, who I call Ganny; my grandfather who I call Poppop, and lastly my grandmother’s friend, Gayle. Poppop was yearned to go on this vacation. He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease about a year before I was born, it was rough the last few years for my grandmother to help him, she told everyone it was like taking care of a grown baby. Despite her struggle with taking care of him, she always loved him and never left him side. Just the way he did not leave her side when she was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. The beach was so close I could taste the salty air, and Gayle owned a town house about a block from the sandy roads that was convenient. First stop Assateague Island. The sand was blowing away, as if it was burning, and my feet were melting it away. Walking sideways, we found a perfect spot, and set our chairs up.