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Ever since I was young my family got together around christmas time and have food and cheers at my grandmas. The excitement that lit up on my face when I walked into my grandma's front door smelled the delicious cheesy potatoes and looked at the 12 foot, rainbow colored Christmas tree and the various color of presents under the tree waiting to be ripped open by my 8 cousins, brother and me. Whenever I came into my grandma’s house I turned left into the living room, then past the kitchen to the family room where we ate dinner, watch sports and did all of our family activities. I step into the family and my uncle kevin is sitting there watching sports so I say “what’s going on Uncle Kevin?” he has a subtle frown on his face and I notice expecting something bad my Uncle says “Your Aunt Heather is in the hospital,” I get the most curiously surprised reaction really not expecting this around the time of the year, my mom steps into the conversation after eavesdropping on my Uncle and I’s conversation and immediately questions “Oh my goodness what happened?” My uncle continues by explaining that my aunt fell down the stairs and her hip was fractured, being only 9 years old the time it was unbelievable to me that someone didn’t make it to our family event, especially christmas eve.
When I walked inside the front door something didn’t seem right. The feeling of sorrow overwhelmed the house. It was so thick I could literally feel it in the air. Everyone was motionless. They were sulking;I was befuddled. The most energetic people in the world, doing absolutely nothing. I repeatedly asked them what was wrong. After an hour or so, my dad pulled me aside. He said that my Aunt Feli had passed away last night. My mind went for a loop, I was so confused. I thought that he was joking, so I replied “You’re lying, don’t mess with me like that.” and punched his shoulder softly while I chuckled. My dad quickly started tearing up and said, “There...
Living our busy lives no one else in the family could travel to Houston. Grandma was a strong woman. She could overcome anything and cancer was not going to defeat her. When she arrived at the hospital the doctors took a cat scan and figured out that she had stage four melanoma skin cancer. While my mother and grandma were at M.D. Anderson I was at home living a normal life just starting my first high school basketball season. Every night I worried about how she was doing not thinking about my school work or my athletics. A couple weeks later I called grandma and asked her how she was doing and she assured me that everything was going to be okay and that I should not worry about her. That’s how she lived. She never put herself first in any situation and family and friends were her main focus. Grandma would do anything to make her grandkids happy. I told my grandma I loved her and hung up the phone. The next day at school I looked up the percentage of people killed by melanoma skin cancer and the results were not good. One person dies of melanoma every 54 minutes. When I got home that evening I told my dad that I needed to be in Houston with my grandma. He said he didn’t think that he could make it happen with his busy schedule. I called my mom upset realizing that
When my grandmother was told that she had breast cancer first time, she decided to cure it with non-Western healing method. She went to a sort of temple that heal and improve one's body condition from detoxing and changing one's diet. At the temple, she had taken enzyme sand bath twice a day, had fasted for a week or more, and had eaten healthy addictive free food. The people at the temple said that cancer or any kind of sickness would come from what we consume in daily life. Therefore, they tried to cure health problems from changing one's diet and consequently improve one's potential body condition. Actually, from this treatment, my grandmother's cancer went away. However, after a couple years from that, she started eating unhealthy again,
I received the call that my brother had overdosed when I was going to a haunted house with a couple of my friends. My mother had not known the severity and told me not to worry. Steven had overdosed in the past so I was not as concerned as I should have been. My friends and I kept on with our festivities and then they dropped me off at my house. There was no one home and I became distressed. When I called my mother she told me to just go to bed and that they would be home soon. I forced myself to sleep. I was in a daze when my mother and father came into my room to tell me that my brother was dead. I don’t know what happened in my brain, but I could not talk and I could not cry. I believe I brushed it off as an awful nightmare. My unconscious demeanor scared my parents so they kept sending people in my room trying to get through to me. I woke up to my best friend hugging me, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke up to my grandma holding my hand with tears flowing down her eyes, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke to my godmother speaking about grief and how I needed to believe that he was gone, and then she left. How was I supposed to believe that my brother was no longer on this earth? I sat there on my bed alone as the idea of my brother dying crept into my mind. My heart began to literally ache. I cried hysterically for hours on hours. It has been a year since he has passed and it doesn’t get any
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 picked up, I sat straight up. I muted the television in hopes of hearing what the conversation. At approximately three minutes later, the telephone fell from my mother’s hands with her faced drowned in the waves of water coming from her eyes. She cried “Why?” My Grandmother had just died.
Meeting at my grandmother’s house for Thanksgiving was something of a tradition in our family. Our fathers would gather together and watch football, fists shaking and voices echoing throughout the entire house. Our mothers and Grandmother would crowd around the tiny white table in the kitchen and exchange stories, not that they would ever admit that they were actually gossiping. This left all of us, the kids, to entertain ourselves until dinner. The basement was our preferred location to gather, as it had a fireplace that kept it toasty and there were three couches for us to take apart and use for pillow forts.
Cathy is my mom 's stepmother. She has always been a really big part of my life. I chose her for my guided biographical study of an older person, because I know she has gone through a lot in her lifetime. She is very easy to have conversations with, and she is very open about the hardships she has been through. I also chose her because it was convenient. She decided to come visit for a few days in October, so I asked if I could interview her for class while she was here.
Every word has its own significance and for me Flourishing defines my grandmother. To be at one’s prime does not necessarily mean they have to be famously known. You can live a prosperous and successful life, but yet be humble without needing to show off that you are luxuriant.
Something that I really struggled with was the passing of my Grandmother. She was a strong woman and an inspiration to everybody in my family. I think that I struggled with it because she was a great human being, I kind of looked up to her a bit, and of course she was part of my family. I think that along with her passing, I struggled with the fact that she died when I thought that she did nothing wrong in her entire life and did not deserve to die. Mainly the fact that she was a really good person and she just died like that.
When someone gets used to being with a person specially someone you really love, someone who is there for you at all times, is really hard to get rid of that person. Even if you have to, it's not always the same. Everything started when I got separated from the person I loved the most which is my mother. At that time I was only 9 years old. It was time for me to come to the United States and live with a person I barely even knew which is my dad.
Who helped develop your life, values, and aspirations? My mother helped me. April, my mother contributed to much of my knowledge about life and how to live. She and my father have raised me in Fyffe, Alabama, a small one red light town. My mom had me at age twenty-three and worked as a special services teacher at Wills Valley.
My momma does her best by me, she loves me as much as she knows how to. Some days are better than others, and some days she has those moments where I truly wonder how she manages to get through the day without killing herself, but it is all part of life, there is nothing we can do to change it, the only thing that we can control is how we choose to learn from it. Sometimes, even for the people that call themselves lucky, there are obstacles that are put in the way of their happiness and for my mom that’s kind of what happened. My mother married a man that she thought was her soul mate, but isn’t that what all people think at the beginning of their marriage? Soon she saw who he really was: conceded, abusive, and manipulative.
February twenty-third 2010 was just a regular ordinary day. I was on my way to class on this cold February afternoon, when my phone rung. It was my cousin on the other end telling me to call my mom. I could not figure out what was wrong, so I quickly said okay and I hung up and called my mom. When my mom answered the phone I told her the message but I said I do not know what is wrong. My mom was at work and could not call right away, so I took the effort to call my cousin back to see what was going on. She told me that our uncle was in the hospital and that it did not look good. Starting to tear up I pull over in a fast food restaurant parking lot to listen to more to what my cousin had to say. She then tells me to tell my mom to get to the hospital as quickly as possible as if it may be the last time to see her older brother. My mom finally calls me back and when I tell her the news, she quickly leaves work. That after-noon I lost my Uncle.
On July 2013, we received a call from my aunt, leader of family events, Nesha. She said it was not like us to be down and depressed. It sure was not like us to not celebrate Christmas. We spent hours on the phone with her planning the Christmas to come. My aunt informed the entire family about the dinner we planned and special surprise for my grandmother. Of course, it was going to be at my mom’s house, in the kitchen. It was very obvious that Christmas was not the same without my grandfather. As the food was being prepared, my grandmother was pulling into the driveway. She walked in the house and hugged everyone. We all looked at her as if something was wrong. She asked us why we were looking at her so strangely. My mom told her to turn around. There it was, a memorial for my grandpa in his favorite place in the kitchen, the top chair facing
It was Friday night, I took a shower, and one of my aunts came into the bathroom and told me that my dad was sick but he was going to be ok. She told me that so I did not worry. I finished taking a bath, and I immediately went to my daddy’s house to see what was going on. My dad was throwing-up blood, and he could not breath very well. One of my aunts cried and prayed at the same time. I felt worried because she only does that when something bad is going to happen. More people were trying to help my dad until the doctor came. Everybody cried, and I was confused because I thought it was just a stomachache. I asked one of my older brothers if my dad was going to be ok, but he did not answer my question and push me away. My body shock to see him dying, and I took his hand and told him not to give up. The only thing that I heard from him was, “Daughters go to auntie...