Death of a Grandparent

In my case, two were dead before I was 5, another before I was 10, and I have no memory of them at all. My paternal grandmother was a short, sharp-tongued, farm-wife with a mind like a razor and a wit like a Restoration playwright. She died when I was about 15 and she scared the daylights out of me every time I saw her.

I was 13 when my first granddad died. he had been ill for a few years. scary because it was the first time I saw my dad cry. the next was at 19 another grandfather heart attack. a grandmother at 22. and last at 35 my other grandmother I was probably closest to her. she used to take me on field trips with her. the last year was sad because she went downhill very fast. she did not show that she could recognize anyone. just sat there with an empty look on her face. it made me vow I did not want to end up like that. she never would have wanted to end up that way.she was very dignified and to end up in diapers,and not knowing anyone. would not have been something she wanted. who would?

Many peoples first real encounter with mortality.It wasn't my first,but it was for me very significant as it taught me not to take my relatives,family or friends for granted.

i lost my grandfather a few years ago. it was hard to see him become so ill after being misdiagnosed by his dr. he spent the last month of his life in the hospital fighting to get well enough to come home and he did. he was able to spend one more night in his own bed and spend one more day at home and then he died that night. he was the one that taught me to ride a bike. he was the one that went to every father-daughter event at school and he was the one that never ate his snoballs or cupcakes just so i could find them in his lunchbox when he would come home from work. i will always have those memories .

I will never forget my Grandpa's funeral.He was a decorated WWII Veteran.He was given a full military funeral.The Taps were very difficult to bear, but they honored him the way he deserved to be honored.

I said goodbye to my grandfather last week. As of Thursday of last week, he was in pretty bad shape. Esophagal cancer was spreading rapidly through his body, and it was just a matter of time before it would prevent him from breathing. When my dad told me that it didn't look like it would be long, I jumped on a plane to see him one more time. I got to spend my grandfather's four waking hours with him on Thursday of last week. He knew who I was about 75% of the time, and the other 25% of the time he thought I was the son of his best friend - which I took as a huge compliment. Although he was skinny and weak (and also suffering from Alzheimers), he was still proud and commanded respect. My grandfather never complained - not during his hard life, and not as he lay dying. He was the kind of guy that didn't like condiments on his food because they were too fancy. He never went to the doctor. He once punched a guy out, at age 62, for talking to my grandmother a little too personall... Read more