The Woman I Idolize. My Grandmother Essay Example
On Sunday mornings, I would run barefoot in my pajamas across the narrow gravel road that separated my childhood home from my grandmother’s. The loud bang of the carport’s screen door was my signature entrance, notifying grandma of my arrival. I would find her standing at the kitchen counter beside an empty chair, waiting for me. She was always prepared for my visit, all the ingredients set out for us to make a batch of her scrumptious homemade biscuits. Grandma Gore was the most amazing wife, mother, grandmother, cook, friend, and woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Grandma stood about five foot two inches tall. She had a medium build, short thick black hair streaked in white, a soft clear medium complexion, high cheekbones, and hazel-colored, almond-shaped eyes. She would almost always wear a colored or printed muumuu dress, dirty “white” canvas shoes with no laces or socks, and no make-up or jewelry. My grandmother was the epitome of “what you see is what you get.” She had an endless supply of advice and many words of wisdom, which she freely offered, whether you wanted them or not. She spoke with a thick southern drawl which was rich and easy to listen to, making her imposing delivery of advice worth your while. I turned to her alone for reassurance and peace in trying times.
Grandma Gore was born into a large family with seven brothers and one sister, which meant that she grew up poor. She learnt at a young age that only hard work yields great rewards. Growing up I noticed her hands were either dirty with peat moss, cut and scarred from bait hooks, blistered from toting hay bales by the tie, or covered in flour, deer meat, and Crisco. She was so wrapped up in work and serving others, she even smelled of it. She would be found reeking of live fishing bait, putting off an odor of fresh cut hay, leaving a trail of scent of raw deer meat throughout the kitchen, and wearing hot grease and gravy as perfume on her apron. She tirelessly gave of herself and her time to achieve what she said was her greatest joy, never wanting recognition for her works, although she deserved it. She served me by teaching me how to be a good daughter, sister, wife, mother, and friend.
She was tough, strong, brave, and courageous, nonetheless she wouldn’t escape an earthly death. It was late Spring of 2012 and Grandma was at our East Texas family ranch harvesting in her vegetable garden. She was picking cucumbers and bent over at the waist to pick one from a vine and fell over with excruciating pain in her abdomen. She was incapable of standing back up on her own, so we rushed her to the emergency room. Our family members flooded the waiting area, pacing back and forth, biting nails, bouncing legs, silently and anxiously awaiting answers about the glue to our family. It seemed to be hours and hours later when we were finally approached by a host of doctors. The look on their faces was unnerving, hitting me like a ton of bricks with discouragement. I stood back watching my grandfather, my daddy, and his brothers receive the gut-wrenching news. She had a large mass covering over eighty percent of her liver. In the days to follow my grandmother was diagnosed with stage five liver cancer, with no option for treatment, and given only a few months at most to live.
The woman I have idolized, cherished, and adored my entire life was dying, right in front of me. My entire family was crippled with fear and empty hearts. Grandma was so sick she was hospitalized in late June to receive the necessary medical care. As the days passed, we took turns staying with her in the hospital, eating all meals at a waiting room table and chair, catching minutes of sleep sitting at her bedside, watching her body literally wither away. She shrank physically within a few weeks to half of the person she was. She spoke the last words I would ever hear her say; “Selina I will be okay and so will you. I am going to my eternal home, in the arms of Jesus, where I belong. You’ve made me proud and brought me great joy. Don’t be scared. I love you.”
Only days after the fact grandmother couldn't walk, talk, sit up, eat, or even open her eyes. Days transformed into weeks, and the side effects of her last days were unmistakable. My last time with her I remained at her bedside for almost twelve hours for the duration of the night and into the following morning. She declined by what appeared every moment during my stay. I yielded destruction and left her bedside as I was rationally physically and genuinely depleted. I was driving home when my telephone rang. It was my daddy, and he was lavishly crying yet not expressing a solitary word.
I realized she had passed. I landed back to her room finding my family gathered around her, quiet and still. I sat on her bed and I grabbed and held her cold hands. The hands that I knew and cherished beyond a reasonable doubt. The arrangement of hands that showed me such a large number of things from praying to cooking to working. I was sobbing, feeling a hurricane of feelings. Outrage, despondency, distress, void, yet observing the stuck sweet grin stuck on her face I felt great joy and peace. Her body laid there dead, yet her soul was in heaven. I delicately kissed her cheek and murmured, "I won't be scared. I love you."
