Personal Narrative: My Great Grandpa's Death

My grandfather's dementia had gotten worse with age. He had developed a habit of walking out of the house randomly. They lived alone in their apartment in Pakistan. One day he walked out the same way and did not return for a long time. We were later informed that he had tripped on his way and broke his hip. After surgery my grandmother called me, I was living abroad at that time, and said, "I don't think he will recover, he is in a lot of pain" I assured her otherwise. She said, "I can't live without him. I don’t want him to die." The helplessness and grief in her voice was agonizing. She would often call and cry, it became tough overtime as I was abroad and not fully aware of his progress. I am her oldest grandchild, and she treats me like

Having a close relationship with three of my grandparents, as well as being present during each of their dying processes, has greatly shaped my view of death. Death has a way of causing us to reflect. Death causes each of us to reflect on the life that is ending as we know it, to reflect on our lives and to reflect on the legacy we want to leave behind when it becomes our time. Having the

I never really knew my grandpa as well as I would have liked. He was already an old, old man by the time I started high school, and my own memories of him are mostly of a man confined by age and ailing health. So I'm not really going to talk about my memories of him. Instead, I'm going to try to share his memories and the memories of those that knew him.

One night in January, I couldn't sleep and it was 4am and then out of the blue I got a call from my sister.. At first all I had was questions, “What do you mean his organs are shutting down?” And then she said it-- grandpa’s dying. She called telling me that our grandpa, who was battling cancer on and off for eight years,

On page 180 Gogol remembers how when his grandparents died he had not understood his parents grief and was annoyed by their rituals. When my own grandparents had died I didn’t share my parents feelings of sorrow. I had only met them once in my life and even hen for around a month. I was very young when we had met and I wasn’t that close with them. Those people from my parents home country pass on and my life remains unaffected. It is so strange how we can know someone without really knowing them and the thought that I will someday have to deal with the same emotions frightens me slightly. Gogol also goes through this as he is deeply affected by his father's death. In this day and age where we are so reliant on technology we don’t cherish life as much as we should. Nott just our own lives but others. Afterall we only miss something once it’s gone.

I clearly remember the day I found out about my granddad's passing. I was at school. It was a normal, joyful day. My dad was planning on picking me up, but instead my friend's mom picked me up. He would not tell me why, but I did not think much of it. I remember the car ride to my house. My friend's mom would not tell me why she was driving me home; all she told me was, "Just know, Ryan, that we will be here for you no matter

Grandpa is almost ninety-five and now resides in a nursing home. The leg he fractured forty years ago is too weak to carry his weight. His eyes are going bad. But to me he's still the big, strong man who used to take his grandchild in his arms and rock to

When you think of losing a grandparent in your life, you think of them passing away. You dread the day you will get the call that they are sick. You then begin to cherish all the moments you have with them leading up to their passing. You have time to except their sickness, and come to terms with the outcome that is to come. My PopPop is not here anymore, but do not get confused, for he is alive. I did not have warning. I did not have time to cherish him. I did not have time to say goodbye. My PopPop was on no medication, which was almost uncanny for a 75-year-old. Trying to encompass everything he was boils down to a few things that may not seem like much to someone who didn’t know him. He went on a walk every night after dinner, and would whistle the same tune when he was happy. He played the same little ditty on the piano every time we were all in the living room. He was a simple man who could not harm a fly, and a good man. Unlike the grandchild warned when they are going to lose a grandparent, I did not have this notice. I did not have time to go on one last walk with him, and I did not have time to record him on the piano. I did not have time to replicate his whistling song, or to spend time with the man I knew. My PopPop was the heathiest man I knew, but then he got depression. First slowly, then all at once. The man I knew had slipped from my fingers without any chance to hold on tighter.

When I was a sophomore, my dad had a life changing injury. This changed how I viewed the world and life in general; I witnessed firsthand how fast life can change. It went from happy times to 30 days in an Intensive Care Unit. From being able to talk to my dad every day to seeing him in a hospital bed on life support. The steps it took for him to get where he is today, from 30 days in ICU, to another month in the trauma unit, and 2 months in rehab made me grow as a person and begin to realize the true value of life.

For my narrative paper i will be talking about my life with my grandfather and just him in general. I will be talking about when he was born and the day he died, the time we had spent together, all the things that we had done in the time we were with each other, how much time we spent together, and how it impacted my life and everyone else's life in my family that was close to him. I will be answering all of these questions through my paper.

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.

I remember the day like the back of my hand. The day my own husband took a knife

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.

My grandpa was my superhero, the vital part of my family. He was the rock that supported us all. By "us all”, I mean my grandma, my mom, my two aunts, and all eleven of his grandchildren, including me. Even though there were so many of us, he always had enough love to go around. He spent a lot of time with us as well. We would go for rides on his humongous tractor and do laps around his food plots, and if we were lucky we'd see deer nibbling at the sweet greens planted there. When hunting season came around, he'd make sure those who wanted to hunt would sit with him at that same food plot and wait patiently for an unfortunate buck to pass through. When late summer came around, he'd take us apple picking and strawberry harvesting so our

Like a nonfiction story-book, my grandfather enlightens me with the adventures from his life and provides a valuable lesson through each telling. Quite fondly I remember him saying, “To learn is to remember, to forget is to lose”. There has always been one story, of which my grandpa told me, that has stuck with me and always reminds me to be fortunate that I do not endure the great hardships that so many face.