describe an incident from your life where have you been a helping hand to your grandparents in 80 to 100 words
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Question:-
describe an incident from your life where have you been a helping hand to your grandparents in 80 to 100 words
Explanation:
My paternal grandparents suffered a lot before passing away.
I don’t have many memories of my grandfather as he passed away very early. I was only in kindergarten when he passed away.
I only have two memories of him.
I remember sitting with him on his rocking chair and swinging back and forth. The second memory is sitting next to his body, on his funeral. He had some problem in his heart and they couldn’t save him.
But I have one memory of my grandmother, that’s etched in my heart so strong.
My grandmother was the one who took care of me and my sister, when my mother helped my father with his work. She was the one who did my plaits for school. She was the sweetest. But soon, she got sick. We couldn’t find out what it was and she became bed-ridden.
She couldn’t move from her bed and she became like a baby. She couldn’t eat, bath or even pee by herself. My mom did everything for her, like it was her own mother. My grandmother had to wear adult diapers to make sure she didn’t spoil her dress. Anyway, for about 4–5 years, my mom became her mother, nurse and everything.
We never left my grandmother alone.
We skipped everything. We used to spend our summer holidays in my mom’s native, but we skipped that. Every year, we used to go to my mom’s place for a pooja, but we skipped even that for all those years, because my mom didn’t want to leave my grandmother alone.
After almost 5 years, my maternal grandparents wanted my mom to come to the pooja, because we weren’t there for the last few years.
My aunt, my dad’s sister told us she’ll take care of her for one day, so that we can go to the pooja. So, we went to the pooja, which was like a 1 hour drive from my house.
We spent few hours there and my mom wanted to leave immediately. I still don’t know what happened, but she got all worried about leaving my grandmother. So, she informed her parents and asked us to leave immediately.
We went back home in an hour. We had tea, relaxed for a bit and then my aunt just left. All 4 of us, my mom, dad, sister and myself, sat around our grandmother, near her bed. Me and my sister climbed on her bed, to her left. My mom and dad sitting on a chair, to her right.
She held our hands tight, one last time. Tears started flowing out of her eyes.
She passed away.
It took us few mins to understand she passed away. It was like, she waited for us to come. Like she was holding on to her breath, for us to come back and to hold our hands.
I’m tearing up as I write this. I have shared this with few of my close friends. It makes me tear up, every time I talk about this.
That’s the sweetest and last memory I have of my grandmother.
My grandparents were the sweetest, everyone says. So like my parents say, maybe that’s why, God took them away very early.
This is the only picture I have with my grandfather (that’s me in his arms) -
I don’t have a picture with my grandmother, here’s a picture of both of them together -
We miss them. But, I’m sure both of them are so proud of what we have grown up to.
I’ve mentioned this on Quora before, but I think it bears a retelling.
When I was a small child of about 4 in 1936/7, we lived in a large, once grand, house in Scotland. My granny lived with us. Our kitchen was enormous, with a large cast iron, black leaded range which, come summer or winter, always had a fire in it. It produced hot water all year round, but was damped down a little if we ever got that rarity, a really hot day. All cooking was done on the range and the kitchen was always warm, unlike the rest of the house where I would sometimes, in winter, have icicles hanging on the inside of my bedroom windows. No central heating, of course.
There were several bedrooms, but Granny chose to have her “bedroom” in the kitchen because it was always warm. “ Good for old bones”, she would say. Mmm, let me explain. As was the custom in those days in big houses, the kitchen had a “bed alcove” let into one of its side walls. This was once used as the kitchen maid’s bedroom. The alcove contained an enormous bed, with curtains which could be pulled across to ensure some modicum of privacy. The bed had two huge drawers under it. One of which was a truckle bed that could be pulled out and used to sleep on, the other contained the occupant’s belongings.
Now, to at last answer the question, every morning I would get up before the rest of the household, run down a freezing, oak panelled corridor, down the spiral stairs leading to the kitchen and reach Granny’s bed. “Morning, Granny”, I would say, standing shivering in my wincyette nightie. Without a word, the heap in the bed, which was Granny, would stir, lift the eiderdown and blankets on my side and I would creep into a lovely, soft, feather bed. An arm would wrap itself around me and there I was, to be slightly sentimental, safe and warm and loved.
Thank you
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