My Grandma - Personal Essay

One Weeks Time

It all happened in one week’s time. When her rosie cheeks and pink lips faded, and when her bouncy white curls became flat. She was always young at heart, driving me around in her 1994 Honda, taking me places I thought grandmas would never want to go. I remembered seeing her small nimble fingers that had sharp acrylic nails, knitting scarves and beanies while she sat in her little pink chair. It was always a fun when I got to visit great grandma Dottie’s house.

I used to sit in her bedroom staring at the collection of clown figurines she cherished. She was a short little lady, who always wore festive sweaters and brown slip on shoes. I remember sitting in the back of the car and hearing her tell my dad that she is a teenager and that she will be forever young. But times went on and my visits with my great grandma became further and further apart. It went on to a point to when I only saw her four times a year.

Months had past and my dad was becoming more and more worried of my grandma living alone in her two-story condo in Diamond Bar. My dad made the executive decision and told her she had to move into a retirement home after she had a tragic accident in her, now old, condo. She agreed and the moving process began. She lived at the Sunnyside Retirement Home in Fullerton for almost five years until everything drastically changed.

My siblings and I sat on the lawn of a senior citizen hospital playing with the dandelions with tears streaming down our faces. We could never take back what we witnessed in that pale blue, cold motionless hospital room. There she was, my great grandmother who lived ninety two years, laying in her blue polka dot covered hospital gown with no strength to even open her wrinkled eyes. My dad crouched down next to her and whispered quietly in her ear, “I will always love you no matter what.” That was the last time I ever heard my great grandma Dottie say I love you to her favorite grandchild, my dad.

I knew she wasn't going to be alive much longer. The nurses decided to put her back into her retirement home so she could pass in a familiar place. My dad visited her everyday that whole week. I prayed to God everyday that a miracle would happen and she would miraculously heal. I longed to see her rosie pink toned cheeks again. I waited for the clock to hit three p.m. so I could race to my car and ask my dad, “How is grandma doing. Is she well again?” He always replied with the same answer.

“Honey, this time she isn't going to get better. Only time can go on and we will lose one of our family members.” Every time I heard these words come out of my dad's mouth I would sink down into my seat and remember all the times I spent with her. Come that Saturday the breeze was nice and cool just liked my grandma liked it. The birds were chirping just like they did on her dusty window seal of her old condo. The sun was nice and bright, a perfect spring day. It made me forget about my great grandma and the pain she was going through for a minute.

It was 9:30 p.m. on that Saturday when my dad and I left my cousins house to visit my