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Hero

Hero I have so many memories of my hero, my grandpa, but a few stick out in my mind. Ever since I can remember, my grandpa always wore the slippers. He wore shoes too, but at the Sunday dinners at my grandparent’s house, he always wore those slippers. I could hear him as he gently shuffled his way across the hardwood floor and came out of the kitchen to give us all hugs and kisses. The suede slippers were the color of coffee with a dash of cream to lighten them up. On the inside, wool spilled out as if it were trying to escape the slipper. This wool was a slightly lighter tint than the outside. He had to buy the slippers three sizes too large so that he could pad them with socks to make extra cushioning for his aching feet. My grandpa had an extreme case of Rheumatoid arthritis, a disease in which one’s immune system acts against joints and ligaments and causes severe pain and disfigurement. My grandpa experienced this to the extreme. His feet hurt him the most and needed the most attention. Because they were so gnarled, he could not walk as well as a normal, healthy person could. He was an extremely stubborn man and he refused to use a walker. My grandfather’s unconditional love and his strength is what has helped me overcome my fear of death. He had eight grandchildren and two great-grandchildren, all of who were his life. Despite his pain, he managed to come to our events whether it was football games, swim meets, or birthday parties. He treated every accomplishment in our lives as if we had just received an Academy Award. Praise is what he gave to each and everyone of us, no matter how small a task we accomplished. Family meant everything to my grandpa, and he was the center of us all for as far back as I can remember. My grandpa was a very tough man. He fought in World War Two, he was extremely stubborn, and stood up for anyone in need. He had a soft side as well, that shined through whenever his grandkids or great-grandkids walked through his door. When I would go stay the weekend with my grandparents, I would always have trouble falling asleep because I wasn’t in my own bed. My grandpa would sit on the bed next to me and tell me to close, my eyes. He would tell me to imagine anything that made my heart happy. Then, he would gently graze his thumbs across my eyelids as if he was glazing a porcelain doll. I remember feeling the cracks in the skin of his thumbs, but they felt like silk at the same time. He would repeat this until I fell asleep. It worked every time. My grandpa was full of wisdom and always expressing that knowledge whenever possible. He instilled in us the importance of family and what it meant to take care of one another. He also taught us the importance of education. He had a way of helping and giving us advise that made life a little easier. He would always say, “Use your head for something other than a hat-rack!” That line will stick in my mind forever. This past Christmas day, the phone rang while my brother and I were tearing open presents with my mom and step-dad. My mom happily answered and within a few seconds, we knew something terrible had happened for her voice and tone completely changed. We all paused and listened to my mom repeat the word “no” over and over again. My brother and I looked at each other and silently came to the conclusion that someone in the family had passed away. But who was it? I mentally went down the list of possibilities and there was no one. My brother and I got up and walked over to the phone. I believe that was the longest walk I had ever taken. My mom then gave the phone to my brother. She turned to me and said, “Grandpa died this morning.” I remember my eyes crossing as I collapsed into my mom’s chest. I sobbed while listening to her say she was sorry. She told me that my dad was on the phone and wanted to talk to me. I looked over at my brother who was holding the receiver out to me. His eyes never looked so blue. He had been crying, and it was the first time I had witnessed it. I took the phone and brought it to my ear. My dad gently said that he had died in the morning. He went on to say something else, but I threw the receiver at my mom and ran to the bathroom. I stayed there for a long time not believing what was happening. My grandpa, who was such a huge part in my life, my absolute favorite person, my hero, had died and I could not say or do one thing to change it. “The great tragedy of life is not death, but what dies inside us while we live”. (Cousins) The next few hours were spent walking around in a different world than I was used to. My brother and I had to get ready to go to my grandma’s house where we were all to meet. When I arrived at my grandma’s house, the place where I had grown up, that was so familiar to me, now felt like a strange place. A certain presence was missing and was replaced by a haze that seemed to radiate throughout the house. All of my relatives were there because it was tradition to have Christmas dinner at my grandparent’s house. I walked in and went into the kitchen where my aunt and step-mom were talking. I heard my aunt ask, “Where will Grandma sleep tonight? They had to take the bed away.” I inquired why they had to take the bed away, and received a very strange look. I knew that there was something that someone wasn’t telling me. My step-mom took my hand and led me outside. It was freezing outside and the cold hit me like ice on my skin. She then proceeded to tell me that early morning, my grandpa took his gun and shot himself in the head because he was in so much pain. I screamed out, “Are you kidding me?” I then fell on the deck and cried. It was not a sad cry, I was mad. This man who was so strong and stubborn, and a solid figure in my life, had taken himself away from me. I couldn’t handle it and had to stay outside for a while so that my grandma would not see me. As I went back inside, everyone was looking at me. I then realized that I was the last to know what really happened. I later found out that no one told the truth because I was the closest to him. My mother had told my dad on the phone when he called in the morning that she would not be able to tell me the truth. I could understand that it would be hard for her, but I was still angry that everyone knew and I didn’t. Even my brother knew, but could not tell me. The weeks that followed were such a blur, I could not tell one day from the other. My grandma became like my child. I was the one who was taking care of her now, and I cannot describe the pain I felt to see her in such a daze. “There are family members you try to forget and ones that you always remember, and you have to share who they were and who they still are with the world.” (Hooks) Before my grandpa died, I was extremely terrified of death. I was so afraid that I became almost obsessed with it. I had not experienced anyone close to me dying before, so I was confused and afraid of the unknown. I had a lot of time to think about what happened and the more I thought about it, I discovered that I was becoming less effected everyday. I could still imagine and remember my grandpa exactly the way he was but his death no longer devastated me. “Death ends a life not a relationship”. (Albom) Of course, I was upset that I could not hug him or talk with him anymore, but now I could talk to him whenever I wanted. Another concept that I was confused and scared of was where I would go when I died. Now, all I have to know is that my grandpa will be there for me when it is my turn to go. It may sound crazy, even silly, but I am at ease just knowing that my grandpa is watching, guiding, and waiting for me. I talk to him more now than I ever did when he was alive. I dream about him all the time, and when I do, it is always a dream in which he just appears to let me know that everything is okay. I do not live my life in fear of dying now. I live my life to the fullest. My grandfather’s unconditional love and his strength is what has helped me overcome my fear of death. There is no use in wasting time, worrying about death in which no one knows when will occur. I have a new outlook on death. Even though I am still apprehensive about it, I no longer worry about what will happen to me after I die for I know who awaits me on the other side, my hero. My grandma gave me his slippers that he always wore. I wear them all of the time now. It’s strange, but every time I slide my feet where his used to be, I feel him in my heart, and I feel a tremendous wave of comfort, almost like a hug from the heavens. Bibliography:

Word Count: 1681