Open Question: wrote a memoir for school, how is it. due tomorrow so plese read. thanks (:?
ok, so had to write a memoir for school about an event in our lives, teacher said sad worked best. and to make it “show not tell”. i have one more paragraph because it couldnt fit and ill add it as a detail. thanks (:
It was a perfect day. They all started the same. The birds always woke me up with their chirp-chirp-chirping, happily singing away their day. The wind always blew with a gust and whoosh, rustling the trees so that they crinkled up above me. And, like every perfect day, there was fun to be had.
I awoke to find myself in my sister?s house, in the most comfortable bed ever (the one that felt like a cloud with a little more stuffing); my most favorite place in the world. It was nearly every weekend that I was here, and I liked it that way. It was somewhere that I could go to get away from the world. I was excited to get out of that bed (the one that felt like a cloud with a little more stuffing), for today?s adventure was for my niece, Jordan, to come over, and we were going to go to the movies! It was spring break and time for the fun to begin.
The cool, stuffy air told me I was in the movie theatre. My watch told me it was a matinee showing as it tick-tick-ticked the seconds of noon away. There was the murmuring and chattering of the crowd around me, waiting for the movie to begin. With the buttery popcorn in a bucket on my lap and an oversized fountain drink in the arm of my chair, I was ready to enjoy the show.
There were times when the cinema erupted into laughter, including me. On the contrary, there were times when the whole room sounded like a remote village, everyone afraid at what would be thought of them if they made even a single peep. I didn?t know my day would turn out like the latter; it had started out seeming like the first.
The ride home was great. The three of us were smiling, laughing, and being our goofy selves: we were having a grand ole? time. We saw a sign changed from thirty to eighty, altered by some ornery teenagers. Of course, we had to turn around and take a picture. Blinded by the flash of the camera, we continued our venture home.
When we arrived, not an hour later, there was a phone call. The phone call. The one that changed the outlook I had on life.
?Okay, we?ll be there soon. Love you too, bye.?
?What happened, what happened?? The voice of a pesky little girl.
?We need to go.? And we were off.
We made arrangements for Jordan to be picked up, since it wasn?t her grandpa, and we arrived at the hospital shortly after. The air was crisp, full of short-lived breaths and the smell of?hospital. As we turned the corner and walked into his hospital room, we did not see our grandpa. The man who took us to the park, the one who took us out to his garden every time we came to visit and usually sent of home with tomatoes, he wasn?t there. We walked in that hospital room to find a very confused man. One whose face was drooping on one side, and who could barely speak. It hit me like a brick wall. What was going on? I started shaking and my heart was beating the hardest I think I?ve ever felt it. With every thump that my heart beat, another question popped into my head. What did this mean for my beloved grandpa?
We found out moments later what was going on. Grandpa had suffered from a stroke. So what did this mean? The remainder of my spring break consisted of sitting in those chairs that hurt your butt and your back, as we watched Grandpa?s face slouch a little more and his speech get a little worse. Grandpa had not received the shot that would prevent further strokes. He had suffered from a massive stroke after the smaller one he had origianally had.
Weeks went by and Grandpa went through all kinds of ups and downs. Being sent home, and then sent back to the hospital seemed to be the norm. We came to know the staff very well. The sight of scrubs was a constant reminder of what was going on. There was a lot of holding his hand because it made us feel closer. There were labor filled nights and days when he was home, and lots of worrying like a neurotic psycho when he was in the hospital. There was nothing to describe the sleepless nights and confusion I went through. The stress level was through the roof. My grandpa would never be the same, and that was hard to fathom.
Four and a half long months after the initial stroke, there was news that Grandpa was gone. Peacefully, in his home, he had looked up, reached, and left. The pain was over. The anxiety was through. He was happy now. The bald guy with glasses came to help decide what would happen and give us our options. The funeral was nice, with lots of crying people. It was tough, but I had lost my grandpa back in April. This was just the confirmation.
Things are okay now. There are still those rough moments when all I want to do is throw myself into his arms one more time. I think of him often and wonder what his reaction is to everything that happens down here. His old recliner with the striped sheet over it still sits in the TV room, but Grandma is the only one who sits there anymore. The back room at Grandma?s is his now. It?s where he died, and it?s where the flag that tells he was a veteran resides. Sometimes, after throwing my coat on the daybed with the pretty little flowers, I pause and look at the pictures of the man who helped make me me, and who?ll always have a place in my little, beaten up heart.

Tue, 07 Sep 2010 03:30:14 GMT

I just got a weird heart flutter, is it serious?

Open Question: Help!!! I believe my cat is sick.. I know she is but that isn’t the problem… Please read!?

Open Question: Insert from my book….would you read all of it/buy it?

Open Question: What is that???!!!???!!!?

Open Question: been depressed lately… help?

Open Question: Anyone know a ‘First year in Heaven’ poem?

Open Question: I just wrote a song. Do you think the lyrics are good?