FREE ESSAY ON GRANDMA'S PASSING

GRANDMA'S PASSING

Grandma's Passing
Grandma was a frail older woman, in her early 70's, and of small stature. Her skin was of
a light brown complexion, wrinkled and ashy. When I sat on her knee, her brittle hands
would always gently wrap around my waist. I would kiss her on her cheek, which was always
cold for some reason. Grandma always wore dark blue dresses that came down to her ankles
and an old pair of black dress shoes everywhere. You know, the ones with no heels that
appear as if they are slippers. She was old fashioned, and didn't hesitate to instruct my
dad to switch me if
I stepped out of line. Grandma was soft-spoken, but firm; I never back-talked her for
fear of the painful consequences my dad would inflict on my legs.
I remember one time I had acted up; oh I paid for that one. It had just rained,
saturating the earth in the back yard beyond capacity. Mud puddles were everywhere; they
were enormous filled with dirty grimy water. These mud puddles were everything a kid
could dream of; they were irresistible. My cousins and I jumped, stomped, splashed, and
rolled in the mud puddles; we had a great time. My grandma had told us kids not to track
mud through the house, but I was having too much fun with my cousins to take her
seriously. We were chasing each other, and
I ran into the house with the mud still caked all over my body. My grandma caught a
glimpse of me dashing through the living room when she bellowed for my father. Grandma
told him that she had warned me to not track mud through the house, but I had done it
anyway. My father came, took one look at the carpet, and instructed me to retrieve the
switch. I did as ordered, and subsequently was beaten for my insolence. I had red whelps
all over my legs; I never tracked mud through the house again. 
Mother summoned for Janelle and I to come to her room; from the sound of her voice, we
felt she was distressed about something. As we entered her bedroom, we discovered she had
been crying. I asked what was wrong, but she just motioned us to sit on the bed beside
her. My sister and I slowly sat on either side of her wondering what was going on. Mother
pushed her eyeglasses up a little to wipe the tears from her eyes, and then repositioned
them on her face. She spoke quietly, almost with a whisper; "I've got something to tell
you two, your grandma died last night". We both leaned back in disbelief, but we didn't
utter a word.
Janelle was the first to speak; "how did she die"? Mother replied that she died in her
sleep, and she didn't suffer. I asked with a soft whimper, "Why did Grandma have to die,
what did she do wrong"? Mother replied that grandma's time was up, and that she was in a
better place now. She said Grandma had lived a good life and was at peace with what
happened.
I turned away from her, and stared at the wall. Mother kept talking, but I couldn't
really hear her. I wanted to distance myself from reality; I didn't want to think about
it. The one person
I felt that genuinely cared about me, the one person that made me feel special, she was
gone, forever. I felt abandoned; she left me all alone with no one to understand me, no
one to console me. I gazed at the wallpaper, trying not to reflect on my grandmother's
death, trying not to think about any of it. The wallpaper had pink and blue flowers as
the decor. I didn't like the design; it seemed too bright, too chipper.
Mother had been speaking with Janelle, but she noticed that I was in my own little world.
She gave me Ovie, my tubby orange cat, and said that I could talk to Ovie if I needed to.
Mother gave me some advice; she said, "people would go in and out of your life, but it
doesn't mean they don't love you". This advice would prove invaluable because I was
feeling unloved, and it made me realize that grandma still loved me.
My dad picked up my sister and I the next morning, and we drove to North Carolina. We
arrived at my grandmother's house late that night. Grandma's house was an old green and
white house, with white drainpipes coming down the sides. A dirt path lead the way to the
front door, we walked in and saw everything just how I had remembered it. The aged brown
recliner with a wooden handle was still there where grandma used to let me sit on her
lap. The television was still on top of the makeshift T.V. stand where Grandma used to
let me watch whatever cartoon I wanted. The kitchen still looked the same with the faded
green and white tiles on the deck where I stood and helped her make little red hotdogs
and cheese eggs for breakfast. All these things were still there except for one, Grandma.
My dad ordered us to bed, as we had a long day approaching.
As I laid in bed, I remembered Grandma the last time I saw her; she was a frail older
woman, in her early 70's, and of small stature. Her skin was of a light brown complexion,
wrinkled and ashy. When I sat on her knee, her brittle hands would always gently wrap
around my waist. I would kiss her on her cheek, which was always cold for some reason.
Grandma always wore dark blue dresses that came down to her ankles and an old pair of
black dress shoes everywhere. You know, the ones with no heels that appear as if they are
slippers. She was old fashioned, and didn't hesitate to instruct my dad to switch me if I
stepped out of line. Grandma was soft-spoken, but firm; I never back-talked her for fear
of the painful consequences my dad would inflict on my legs.
The next day would indeed prove to be an excruciating long day, with the wake and the
burial. My older sister Perdine accompanied us to the wake, which was in the church a few
doors down from my grandmother's house. As we walked to the church, I noticed that the
sky was gray with dark clouds hovering above our heads. The church, a relatively small
building, was nearly packed as we tried to enter through the archway. We sat on the left
side of the church, and then I saw the casket that held by grandmother. My stomach
immediately sank, and I felt sick. The service commenced soon afterwards, and the
preacher began his sermon. Amen's, yes Lord's, and holla-llua's filled the room, then the
choir burst into a hymn. I sat quietly watching and listening; I was too upset to be
religious. I began to cry, and it turned into wailing. My older sister Perdine held me in
her arms and attempted to comfort me. After a while, I calmed down and wiped the tears
away from my eyes. Perdine took Janelle and I to view my grandmother's body, and I told
my grandma that I loved her. I couldn't think of anything else to say, I was petrified.
We returned to our seats, and soon afterwards, the wake was finished.
We drove to the cemetery, a few minutes away, where Grandma was to be buried. The wind
started to pick up as we departed our vehicles to accompany my grandmother to her final
flight. We sat in the metal chairs underneath the canopy next to a beautiful wreath of
red and white flowers with my grandmother's picture centered in it. There were blue,
white, and yellow flowers arranged in rows boarding her gravesite. All was silent except
for an occasional snivel and the preacher speaking from the Bible. A light drizzle echoed
the somber ambiance of the service. I thought of all of the good times I had with my
grandma, and how I missed her so.
I wondered if I could ever connect with anyone as I did with my grandmother; that special
bond between us, could I ever experience something similar? I still ponder these thoughts
periodically, hoping to encounter that special bond I treasur