grandparents
Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.
What I Learnt About Death
My Grandfather was a good man. As a young man, he served his country in battle, fighting for the freedom of those unable to defend themselves against the tyrants who imposed their will on the world. As a working man he served his community, fighting for fairness and equality of those who worked alongside him, trading blows with the heavyweights of industry whose tanks and shells had long-since been replaced with cuts in wages and inequitable conditions, and where men who worked themselves into early graves for paltry sums underpinned the few who grew continuously richer from their efforts. As a family man, he fought to preserve the innocence of his children in a changing world which saw men walk on distant rocks and peer into the far-flung reaches of the galaxy; and as an Old Man, he served his peers, his church, and his community, offering shelter and sustenance to those in need of his Christian charity. A man whose honour and decency was well-represented by the hundreds who mourned his passing, and passed glorious platitudes to those who knew and loved him most, lining the wood-adorned walls, smiling solemnly and shaking hands with the well-wishers who wished him well in his passing. Those who knew him well, loved him well, and remarked to his widow as such. And through tear-stained dignity, she accepted each gracious apology for his loss, followed by his children—my father and uncle—then by the grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and countless nieces and nephews.
By Mark Williams7 years ago in Families
Grandfather's Pocket Watch
He moved slowly from the hospital bed to the bathroom. I watched his agony. I looked over at my grandmother. She sat quietly, his pain reflected in her eyes. They had been married, my grandfather and grandmother, for over forty years, and had raised two daughters, my aunt and my mother. And now she watched him slowly die.
By David Stoner7 years ago in Families
French Fries for Breakfast
Her hair tastes like sour milk. Well, truthfully I never have tasted her hair but just by looking at it, I can imagine inhaling its frothy filth. It is usually put up in a bun but today I watch her take it down. Her grey hair pours down onto her shoulders and I smell its rottenness. I’ve never actually touched her hair but I know I’ll never forget how crinkled it feels, just like the French fries she makes me every Sunday morning. After church, my whole family piles up in the car and we drive to her house. Breakfast will always be waiting for us. The rest of my family always wants eggs and bacon for breakfast but I am picky. No matter what is being served, I always want French fries.
By Katherine Williams7 years ago in Families
Elder Abuse
Elder abuse can be a bad thing for an older person, just the same for a young person as well. I know this can happen in nursing homes as well as their own homes where their own children can abuse them when they can't seem to take care of themselves on their own,or bathe themselves or cook either one, and they have to take any punishment that they can. It can be a traumatic thing to go through and see when you are only a teenager of 17. This is a true story of my grandmother when I spent the weekend over at her house in October 1987. This was the time of year when you can just look outside and see the orange and brown leaves all over the ground from the trees outside.
By Peggy Rice7 years ago in Families