The day my grandfather died was actually the saddest day of my life. This is because as a child, I lived with my grandfather. Since I was living with him, my grandfather not only became the most important person in my life, but he was also my best friend with whom I shared my happier times and my sad times. Each time thoughts of my grandfather crossed my mind, I got a warm feeling in my heart, but all that changed the moment I received the saddest news that completely confused me; the news of my grandfather’s death. To make things worse, I did not even know that my grandfather was gravely ill because my mom and cousins had chosen not to tell me. I was sitting for my end-of-semester exams around the same time that he became ill.
I can still recall that fateful Thursday morning when my cousin arrived at the college’s residential hall where I was staying. He did not actually tell me what was happening, but from his hesitant voice, I could tell that something was terribly wrong. About an hour later, my mother also came, and it was she who clearly told me that my grandfather had actually passed away. Even though my mother told me the sad news with a soothing tone, I still did not believe her. I asked them to accompany me to my grandfather’s home. The one hour journey to my grandfather’s house felt like an eternity. I kept wishing my mother would drive faster and faster towards my grandfather’s house. As we headed towards his home, the memories of the many happy moments we spent together kept crossing my mind and as the thoughts kept coming, I could not help but to feel some intense sadness as tears freely rolled down my cheeks. It is only when I got to my grandfather’s house and realized that he was neither there to welcome us nor was he anywhere in the house that it truly hit me that my grandfather was indeed dead. Death had robbed me of a true friend.
A few days later, the time to hold a mass in honor of my departed grandfather came. My family members, neighbors, and family friends met in the local church where several speakers gave emotional speeches of what they could recall about my grandfather and best friend. Once the mass was over, we headed to the cemetery and found that some men had already made all the preparations for my grandfather’s burial. The pole bearers allowed us to have a last look at my grandfather so we could say our last goodbye before burial.
Tips for writing this essay:
An important point to remember when writing this essay is that one is supposed to write about how death affected the speaker or narrator of the essay. The essay should be organized chronologically, meaning, the order in which events occurred or took place. Furthermore, in an effort to draw the reader in, the writer needs to include what the speaker or narrator of the essay is feeling. Concrete details also help the reader to visualize the events taking place and, thus, to become more engaged.
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Tags: essay on death, narrative essays
My grandma deserved a much better life than the one that was handed to her.
She was a fighter, a survivor, and all around the most beautiful person I knew. She radiated poise and elegance. She made me feel loved beyond measure. I consider her not only the most influential person of my childhood, but of my entire life so far.
My parents and I lived on a ranch, with my grandparents just a few feet next door. I didn’t have many friends and as an only child, my only source of human interaction was skipping over to her house every morning before school, and racing to the big white doors once I returned home. My grandma was my best friend — we did everything together.
While we didn’t always get along, I never felt safer and more loved than when I was in her presence.
When I was 10 years old, my grandma (or as I called her, Ma) was diagnosed with lung cancer. I didn’t know what to think or what to do. My mom just told me to spend as much time with her as possible, but none of it made sense to me. My grandma had never smoked a day in her life. She was the healthiest person I knew.
I latched onto my grandma as she went through her treatment, and a year later was given a clean bill of health. We were all ecstatic, and I was so glad to have my best friend back by my side, instead of in a hospital bed. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t taken advantage of that time.
The summer before my freshman year of high school, my grandma was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. How could this happen? She was so good to herself, and to all of us, and had been punished with this disease.
The doctors tried their best, but eventually she was completely bedridden.
This was not the grandma I knew: the grandma I knew was lively and vivacious and feisty and glowed with love. The women I saw laying in bed everyday was sick and cold and could barely talk. She now had strange people surrounding her, helping her take her medications and refilling her oxygen tanks… I didn’t know this person.
No one knew how much time she had left, and that terrified me to no end. This woman was my idol, my hero and my inspiration. She inspired me in so many ways and to see her like this sent me into a deep, deep depression. I developed severe anxiety disorder and wouldn’t sleep. I spent every day that summer by my grandma’s side, never knowing when God wanted to beckon her up to her new home.
I walked into my math class on my first day of high school, and not even 15 minutes into the class I was called to the office. That’s when it hit me: I knew something wasn’t right.
I couldn’t feel anything, and I just wanted to shut down. My mom picked me up, sobbing, but I couldn’t bring myself to cry. I sat in silence in the car on the way to my grandma’s house and I felt the worst gut feeling when I walked into her room. I will never forget that sight. My grandma, with no life in her once sparkling eyes, laying in bed, cold and no longer living. I was given some time to say goodbye, but it never felt like long enough. That day was the last time I ever saw my grandma, and it was not in the way I had hoped.
It’s been almost five years since my grandma has passed and I would be lying if I said that it’s not still hard.
Everyday I think of her and everything she went through. She worked so hard to give my family and I the life we enjoy today. The grief will come at random times, and will linger for days, but she never leaves my mind. I love my grandma more than anyone I have ever met in my entire life.
She inspired me to do what I love, and I wouldn’t be half the person I am if it wasn’t for her. One of her favorite things was theatre — she was an actress and a singer, just like me. Whenever I hear the lyrics from a song in my favorite show (Into the Woods), I know my grandma is there with me, and I know she is proud of what I’ve done, even when I’m not.
“Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood. Do not let it grieve you, no one leaves for good. You are not alone. No one is alone.”
Filed Under: Articles, Figuring Stuff Out, Mother's DayTagged With: cancer, grandma, life after loss, lung cancer, mother's day, personal essay