Personal Narrative Essay: My Grandpa Jack's House

I walked downstairs to the basement of my grandpa Jack’s. His house was in boxes. his memories, life, and possessions neatly sorted into cardboard boxes. I slowly walked to the closest portion of his life. It was labeled Keegan. My mom walks over with tears in her eyes.

“Grandpa Jack left this for you”.

I slowly ripped back the brown packing tape sealing the box. I reached inside the box and pulled out the first object I touched. It was his pocket knife. His lucky pocket knife. No note. No sentimental letter informing me of his grand-parental love for me. Just a pocket knife and packing peanuts. I sat in the corner running my finger across the synthetic shiny wood, the somber air crashed around me, people were crying, but I just sat in that

Today was the day we went to the O’brien family farm to say our last goodbyes. I slipped on shorts and threw on a shirt. i securely fastened my ballcap to my head and slid my Grandpa’s pocket knife into my pocket. The thirty minute drive through rural Illinois was filled of rolling hills, and golden wheat. Rows of dull yellow Corn stalks went on as far as the eye could see. The road was smooth and accepted the cars as they glided across its surface. I lightly slid my finger across the cold metal point of my knife. Thinking what my grandpa thought as he made the drive through this very

You either grow or descend from them. Jack made enough mistakes for two lifetimes, but he learned from them and grew. In the last few years of his life he came back into our lives, and ended up loving and cherishing his family more than anything. I love you ya bastard, I love you”. He threw his ashes into the wind as my grandpa became one with the earth.

I sat silently on a rock with my grandpa in the palm of my hand, i was remembering the events of my life with him. From the first time I met him, to the last time I saw him. His remains were clutched tightly in my left hand. My grandpa 's old poems went through my head. One stood out in particular.

I will arise and leave you

I will find a place somewhere

It will be a place of tranquility and I will wait for you there we will sit together side by side breaking my long game of solitaire

Because one day we will be graced by each others loving care

I loved him. I love him as a friend. I loved him as family. I have accepted his death, and he has left this world. People always say that when you die you go to a “better place”, whatever this place is maybe someday I can see him. at that moment on the rock with the sun shining in my face I accepted my grandpa’s death. He won’t come back, but he will live on through the memories I have of him. I threw his ashes into the