My Grandmother Essay

How do you think one’s culture affects how they see what is going on in the world? We have read several short stories, poems, and excerpts during the past couple of weeks, we also have our own personal experiences. With what we have seen, read, and learned ourselves we can conclude that one’s culture has a great deal to do with how we see each other, the world, and what is going on in the world. In My Mother Pieced, a poem by Teresa Palomo Acosta, she talks about these quilts that are a part of her mother's culture.

I walked into the hospice care building with my family excited to see my grandpa, who I hadn’t seen in a couple weeks. The building had a peaceful atmosphere, staffed with caring nurses. They had beautiful flowers planted outside and a kitchen filled with good food. The building had a weird feeling to it though. It had a certain distinct smell to it, similar to a nursing home or hospital. Though, the more I thought about my grandpa being there made me slowly get more and more upset. The last day I saw my grandfather was the day I realized, to be happy in life, I must accept everything that comes my way and make the most out of the life I was given.

That day when I returned home from school, my mom’s boyfriend called me asking to speak to my grandmother. Typically, Gus would call my grandmother himself if he wanted to speak with her, which was rare. I found out about my mom going to the hospital from my grandmother after that phone call. The doctor told my family that a stroke afflicted her in the middle of the day. My mom confused the date with her birthday, had trouble getting words out and remembering our family member’s names. The nurse had to take her for walks periodically and exercise her legs and arms because they were weak. Seeing my mother in this condition made me appreciate my mother and everything she does for me tremendously. However, I was terrified for my mother’s health.

My grandmother name is Maria Jimenez and she is the mother of my father who was born on January 10, 1948. My grandmother was born in Puebla, Mexico in a small farm with her mother and father. She was raised on a farm and had farm life duties as a child. She attended elementary school and culminated still completing with her farm duties such as feeding the animals, picking up the crops, watering the plants every morning, watching over the animals, and many other duties. My grandmother and her parents were less fortunate than others and had to work harder. As a young girl, her parents always talked to her about being someone is life and that she should go to school to seek a better life opportunity but as farmers her parents were not able to afford her studies. They would sell their crops in the market of the town. Maria attended middle school and always got the highest grade in her class, she graduated with her classmates with good grades but could not attend high school because her parents could not afford it. She worked for super markets, a farm worker and maid. She later met my grandpa in the farm she was working in, the farm was in Mexico, puebla. Maria parents were very religious, they were strict Catholics and tried to teach their children the bible. My grandpa asked her to marry him at the age of 16 and he was 17. My grandmother’s parents agreed to the marriage because at those times people were getting married at such a young age. They got married and built their own

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.

I will tell you a tale of a woman of great success. This is a woman that has inspired me to be something great one day and to never give up trying. Though she may be growing into her elderly years she has lived a very challenging, joyful, loving and successful life. She is a woman of great faith and character, she is my grandmother.

What can one say about their mother? One may talk about her positive and negative

At just over five feet tall, she was the kind of woman that you saw on the street and knew to move out of her way. Her demeanor was strict, her hands tied with thick blue veins, criss­crossing over her thin, frail fingers.

My grandmother moved about as much as her husband did. Eyes glazed over, locked onto closed lids.

My grandmother’s house has a very special place in my heart. As the family has gotten older and we have all had our own children we do not visit as we should. I visited with my grandmother many times when I was little. Her house always seemed to have something about it that set it apart from all the rest. As you walk into the back door of her house you would notice a long, narrow kitchen that led into the main living and dining room of her house. The smell of food home cooked food was quite evident. Grandmother cooked every day and always cooked big meals on holidays for the family.

Death. To some people, death is the gateway to the next transcendent life; to others, death is a disease. Humanity will always see death in different perspectives whether it is true or not. It is a mystery that we will never find out unless we are the same primordial being that gave the world light and darkness. To me, death is a topic I do not tread lightly for it is a third rail. However after experiencing the death of my great grandmother, I began to think whether I should constantly throw away topics that are related to death, and make the topic taboo. On the winter of 2014, I realized that the topic of death wasn’t something taboo but something that I must prepare for.

We didn 't stay long at my grandmothers. My mom said she was determined for us to have our own; especially after the incident of  her and me and my siblings experiencing not getting anything for Christmas  while my uncle E. my mom 's  brother made sure all his children had a plethora  of gifts to pull from under the tree and open in front of our face. Hearing this story as I got older was heart wrenching for me. As a mother, it 's hurtful because you can only imagine the struggle of a single mother of six children, and on top of that she is saving up to move into her own; and her brother can 't even assist her children with one gift!  Oh the hurt my mom must 've felt looking at our faces that day!

"Why did it take me forever to teach you and you still don 't get it?" I yelled at my grandmother, lashing out my accumulated impatience and anger. She left the room silently; she shut the door gently; she looked at me like she had committed an unforgivable crime.

When we were together we were invincible, us against the world. I’d look up to him, not only because he was 6’4, but because he was my grandpa. I have clear memories of him picking me up from school, playing old school reggae music during our adventurous car rides. We’d always sing along to our favorites, sometimes turn the music up so loud the people in the cars next to us could hear it. When I would visit his apartment, the familiar smell of drywall and pennies would fill the air. It was my hideaway, my home away from home. My grandpa collected pennies in water jugs. He would say that one day they’d be worth more than just pennies. I loved it there, not only because he had a freezer filled with many flavors of ice cream to which he would often say to me “you can have all you can eat” but because it was our time to bond. For five years it was my mom, my dad, and my grandpa helping me to grow. Those are my favorite people, my role models. Being around my grandpa brought me such comfort and joy.

“ A minor setback is an exquisite set up for a major come back, remember that.” --Voire. Throughout high school, I have learned that you will deal with uncomfortable, sticky situations; but with that being said, you also need to try and overcome those situations. Life will throw wild things your way, and it is your decision whether you grab it or let it hit you in the gut. That is why I believe my mother would be the best choice as to a guide through high school.