What Is A Personal Narrative Of My Grandma's Death?

Do you ever ponder how your life would be if an event didn’t happen? Or yearn to go back in the past? If I had a ticket in my hand that gave me the opportunity to go to any place I desired, I would travel back in time and meet the one person my mind always wonders about, my grandpa.

When I was 3 years old my mother and father got divorced. My father was abusive due to drugs and my mother couldn't handle it anymore. After my parents got divorced my sister Julie and I saw my father every other weekend. My father got more into drugs after the divorce and my sister and I didn’t get to see him much. When I was 7 years old my father got put in jail. Since my sister and I were only children we didn't understand why our father left. Our father was in and out of county jail during our life D.U.I’s, starting fights with people, hitting my mother. We didn’t know much about what our father did because he didn’t want us to know because we were too young. But my father was sentenced about 30 days in county jail. My sister and I missed

It was June 16th, 2008 and I was home with my grandma and my mom and dad came home. With a face that I have never seen before. My mom brought a baby boy named Zack. I heard my mom and dad talking about how my mom had to quit her job because she couldn’t put me in day care cause the weren’t taking care of me, and she had to take care of zack so she decided to quit her job to take care of us. Also heard my mom and dad in our small kitchen about not having space for Zachary. They had a conclusion we were going to move.

So i spent the night at my grandma and grandpas and in the morning we all woke up in the morning we all got in the van and all the kids including me took nap in back and when we got there we had to put camper up and take boat to ramp to get it to the campsite

I failed to mention certain details in the beginning of my story that I would like to share with you. During my teenage years and before my grandmother had passed, I had experienced true love with an extraordinarily handsome man named Gary, so I was familiar with how it felt, and also knew that I didn’t have that feeling in either of my marriages. Unfortunately, Gary and I went our separate ways, but we have always remained close friends even after I moved away, married, moved back, and married again. He, himself had his own life agenda going on, he married and divorced, and during that time, out of respect for our spouses we kept our communications limited.

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

On the first day of eleventh grade It was just another sunny morning Until the phone started ringing And it was hard to believe what I was hearing How was it even possible that grandma was no more? My world shattered into a million pieces,

First I was sitting on the big couch and my Mother’s phone rang. So I got up off the couch and quickly ran to the phone. I looked at the phone number and it reads a name, not a phone number. Who was calling, it was my Nana. I said “Hello,” “Madison, can you put your Mom or your Dad on the phone,” Nana said. “Dad is not here, but here is mom, she is in the laundry room and here she is, bye.”

It was a dark, early morning, and something was amiss. Strangely, mom was not home; she was always up thirty minutes before me. My dad confirmed my suspicions: my grandma had gone to the emergency room with crippling stomach pains. That wasn’t an unusual event; my grandma was no stranger to Hillcrest. On Thanksgiving, she had been in the hospital for a heart attack. However, this time, a few days after Easter 2015, felt different. Like a raincloud, I felt disquiet brewing over my head, but I shrugged it off and went to school.

This whole day seemed like a bad nightmare. I did not eat all day and night. At eleven that evening, a police officer walked into my aunt’s house without knocking. I saw my dad standing behind him. My dad had his head down because tears where rolling down his face and dripping onto the floor. My daddy was in handcuffs. Another police officer was behind my dad. There was also an armed police officer standing outside the house. Many emotions were racing through my head. I was so excited to see my daddy. At the same time, I felt so bad seeing him in that state. I could not even give him a

Now, you must be wondering about what happened to my grandma. Well, after a long amount of time fighting with the people in charge, our family finally got the permission to visit. It would be a little dangerous, but it would be absolutely worth it. We walked a little bit, but also used some of our horses to travel the long way there.

The experience that I had with dying is when I was caring for my grandmother. My grandmother was very ill and I was the only one to take care of her, since I was the only girl in our family. In our culture the girls have to take care of their grandmothers and the boys have to take care of their grandfather. I had to take the responsibility of my dying grandmother, and I was very young and a teenager. At my age it was very hard to cope with the situation and very stressful l. I never thought I could see someone dying in front of my eyes, but my grandmother was the first loved one to go forever. I remember falling down and I fainted and found myself the next day in the morning.

She follows me into the dining room, unaware of the hell on earth we're about to experience.

It was a Monday night; I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just completed my review of Office Administration in preparation for my final exams. As part of my leisure time, I decided to watch my favorite reality television show, “I love New York,” when the telephone rang. I immediately felt my stomach dropped. The feeling was similar to watching a horror movie reaching its climax. The intensity was swirling in my stomach as if it were the home for the butterflies. My hands began to sweat and I got very nervous. I could not figure out for the life of me why these feelings came around. I lay there on the couch, confused and still, while the rings continued. My dearest mother decided to answer this eerie phone call. As she

“I shouldn’t be sad, I should be happy.” That’s the thought that suddenly just came to me as I pondered over my grandma’s death. That’s right, I somehow came to the weird conclusion that I should be happy about my grandma’s death. I know it sounds weird, crazy even. I think so too to this day, but it just feels so right, it feels like the truth - a truth I can explain well.