asquithfeare
03-01-2006, 01:01 PM
I had to write and essay on a person I admired. I had to describe them so the reader felt as if they too, knew the person just by reading it. I just wanted opinions to whether it is good or not. I know I have grammatical errors, but overall what did you think? I want to know if it's good enough to turn in or should I write something different?
Grandpa
I was told in his younger days he had dark brown hair and blue eyes, the man I knew had grey hair and blue eyes. Though he wasn't as tall as I was told he used to be, he was still tall for an older gentleman. As the years grew I watched his height shrink along with his health. He was born November 26, 1925, in Akron, Ohio to German immigrants. His given name was Stephen Michael Schmidt, but immigration at Ellis Island had changed the family name to Smith. He was a quiet man who only spoke when he was joking, or had something to say. He married Esta Lee Arnold on September 9, 1947, after meeting her through his friend's wife Patty, who just happened to be Esta's first cousin. His many titles in life included, son, beer delivery driver, Coxwain's mate third class, rubber factory worker, husband, father, Watershed Ranger, and the title that I knew best, Grandpa.
I first met my grandpa on April 11, 1977, at Saint Thomas Hospital in Akron, Ohio. My earliest memory of him involved Play-doh, my sister eating it, and my grandpa changing my sister's diaper, joking that my sister had given me my Play-doh back, only it was warm this time. I don't remember my age at the time, but I do remember that I definitely did not want that Play-doh back. My grandpa laughed at my _expression of disgust at the thought of taking the multi-colored poo in my sister’s diaper. He then snatched me up, hugged me and told me it was alright he would get some new Play-doh and this time sister wouldn't eat it because he would get her something to play with also.
He was a kind, gentle man. He felt love was most important and if you showed by example how to be a good person punishment was rarely needed. Not that I had never been punished, he had to punish me only once and he made sure it was memorable enough that I would not repeat it again, at least not around him anyway. I called my sister stupid and pushed her off the swing set, I was immediately called in to have dish soap put on my tongue. Let it be known that Palmolive does not taste good in the least bit. Again I found him laughing at the displeasure on my face, a snatch up, a hug and reassurance followed.
He didn't like making anyone upset. I remember he was forever trying to make everyone happy, especially his family. He was very proud of his family and it showed in his devotion, not only to his immediate family, but his extended family as well. He always made time for his family. Every summer we would travel to Arnoldsburg, West Virginia to visit my grandmother’s family. He loved going down there, when I was little he and grandma would help me catch crayfish and the occasional turtle. Much to my grandmother's dismay, he usually snuck a turtle or two in the car for the ride home.
Growing up I spent most of my time over at his house. On Sundays he'd take my sister and I for a drive down to Mogadore Reservoir to feed the geese, and if grandma didn't come we'd go fishing too, weather permitting of course. He always managed to stick himself in the finger with the hook while baiting it. He would apply Iodine as soon as we got home. Being my mentor I wanted my hands to look like his so he would put a little on my fingers too. Sometimes I got to go to work with him and ride in his patrol car as he checked the camp grounds and boat house. He would tell me stories about being in the Navy and where he had lived before he moved to Mogadore. I knew then that I too wanted to be in the Navy just like grandpa. He was so proud of me when I told him that I had signed up to join. He also let me know how worried he was, but that he knew I would be fine.
On July 4, 1997, I gave him a great grandson, I can only imagine that the joy I saw on his face when he first met my son was the same joy he had on his face when he met me. I have a wonderful picture of my grandpa holding my son the way he used to hold me, and they are just smiling at one another. It would be another two years before I would see him again. He was so excited when I was done with my tour of duty because it meant I was coming home. It wasn't long after I came home that we found out he had been keeping my grandma's Alzheimer’s a secret. He didn't want to worry us with it, we had our own lives to worry about and he was sure he could handle it.
Time went by and things went well for awhile, little by little I watched him crumble as my grandma's condition got worse. I helped as much as I could, went shopping for them, mowed the yard, cleaned the house and anything else that may have needed done. He would never let me do any of it for free, even though I insisted that I wanted to, he wouldn't hear of it. I didn't argue I took what he gave me. It wasn't long before his health started failing, whether it was stress or not I will never know. One year and a half later I quit my job, and decided not to finishing enrolling at Akron University so I could help him care for my grandma. I didn't know at the time, that he wouldn't be with me much longer.
He had to go in for surgery in December to have a stint placed on his Renal Artery to stop the aneurism the doctors had found from getting larger. He handled the surgery like a trooper, and was home in a few days. He was put on oxygen to supplement what his lungs could no longer process enough of, years as a rubber worker had scarred his lungs. He seemed to be doing fine until March, and then he complained of pain in his stomach region. My mother immediately made him an appointment. The aneurism was getting larger, there was nothing more they could do for him, and his artery was too weak for the stint.
March came and went, in April he went to the hospital for one last try to stop the bleeding, it didn't work. He came and was put on hospice care and was given morphine to stop the pain so he could breathe. That second week was the longest week of my life. On top of caring for my grandma, who at this point needed full time care, I was caring for him full time as well. Monday he was able to use the restroom with assistance, Tuesday I had to put him in diapers because he was too weak to walk. He was so upset; I had never seen my grandpa cry so hard, he was so ashamed. Wednesday he was in and out of consciousness, that evening he stayed up all night and screamed for me to keep him safe from the dark, so I sat in a chair and held his hand. Earlier that day my mom and I heard him talking to someone or something telling them that he only needed two more days and then he would be ready to leave. Thursday he slept all day, my mom stayed at the house to keep an eye on my grandmother so I could catch some sleep from the night before. Thursday night all was quiet, I gave him some morphine so he could breathe easier. Friday was April 11, I got up, got my grandma fed and dressed, changed grandpa and checked his breathing. I put my grandma on the couch and she soon fell asleep. I went into the room my grandpa was in and took his hands in mine, I told him it was okay if he needed to go. I would be fine without him taking care of grandma. I promised him I wouldn't leave her until she died, and I wouldn't let anyone take her out of their house. He didn't open his eyes, but he squeezed my hands, and I kissed his forehead. As I left the room I noticed what looked like Iodine on my hands where my grandpa had touched me, so I went to the bathroom to try and wash it off, then checked on my grandma. I went back in to check on grandpa, I hadn't even been gone for a minute and he was gone. I called my mom at work, and then I called my uncle. My mom got to the house first she immediately hugged me and said " Oh, my gosh! Today is your birthday." I had forgotten; part of me believes that mystery person was an angel and he was asking to stay until my birthday.
I will never know for sure who he was talking to. I will never know why the Iodine appeared that day and then disappeared the day his body was laid to rest. I will always remember the kind, gentle man that was my grandfather. I learned so much from him, he taught me love was the most important tool in life, that patience is more than just a virtue, devotion to family is what keeps us going, laughter is what keeps us sane and courage is what helps us hope. I could right a whole other paper just on the things he taught me about life. I can't tell how much I looked up to him, the only way I could think to even remotely repay him for all that he did for me was to help him in his hour, or in this case months of need and to continue after he was gone by caring for the woman he loved more than anything. As sad as I was the day he left, I am thankful I was there, I was thankful that the opportunity to share this part of the journey with him had arose. I still think of him often, especially on my birthday and it makes me feel better believing he's somewhere looking down on me. I will always carry him in my heart with me, I was his girl, his first grandchild, we had a special bond he and I, one I will always cherish.
Grandpa
I was told in his younger days he had dark brown hair and blue eyes, the man I knew had grey hair and blue eyes. Though he wasn't as tall as I was told he used to be, he was still tall for an older gentleman. As the years grew I watched his height shrink along with his health. He was born November 26, 1925, in Akron, Ohio to German immigrants. His given name was Stephen Michael Schmidt, but immigration at Ellis Island had changed the family name to Smith. He was a quiet man who only spoke when he was joking, or had something to say. He married Esta Lee Arnold on September 9, 1947, after meeting her through his friend's wife Patty, who just happened to be Esta's first cousin. His many titles in life included, son, beer delivery driver, Coxwain's mate third class, rubber factory worker, husband, father, Watershed Ranger, and the title that I knew best, Grandpa.
I first met my grandpa on April 11, 1977, at Saint Thomas Hospital in Akron, Ohio. My earliest memory of him involved Play-doh, my sister eating it, and my grandpa changing my sister's diaper, joking that my sister had given me my Play-doh back, only it was warm this time. I don't remember my age at the time, but I do remember that I definitely did not want that Play-doh back. My grandpa laughed at my _expression of disgust at the thought of taking the multi-colored poo in my sister’s diaper. He then snatched me up, hugged me and told me it was alright he would get some new Play-doh and this time sister wouldn't eat it because he would get her something to play with also.
He was a kind, gentle man. He felt love was most important and if you showed by example how to be a good person punishment was rarely needed. Not that I had never been punished, he had to punish me only once and he made sure it was memorable enough that I would not repeat it again, at least not around him anyway. I called my sister stupid and pushed her off the swing set, I was immediately called in to have dish soap put on my tongue. Let it be known that Palmolive does not taste good in the least bit. Again I found him laughing at the displeasure on my face, a snatch up, a hug and reassurance followed.
He didn't like making anyone upset. I remember he was forever trying to make everyone happy, especially his family. He was very proud of his family and it showed in his devotion, not only to his immediate family, but his extended family as well. He always made time for his family. Every summer we would travel to Arnoldsburg, West Virginia to visit my grandmother’s family. He loved going down there, when I was little he and grandma would help me catch crayfish and the occasional turtle. Much to my grandmother's dismay, he usually snuck a turtle or two in the car for the ride home.
Growing up I spent most of my time over at his house. On Sundays he'd take my sister and I for a drive down to Mogadore Reservoir to feed the geese, and if grandma didn't come we'd go fishing too, weather permitting of course. He always managed to stick himself in the finger with the hook while baiting it. He would apply Iodine as soon as we got home. Being my mentor I wanted my hands to look like his so he would put a little on my fingers too. Sometimes I got to go to work with him and ride in his patrol car as he checked the camp grounds and boat house. He would tell me stories about being in the Navy and where he had lived before he moved to Mogadore. I knew then that I too wanted to be in the Navy just like grandpa. He was so proud of me when I told him that I had signed up to join. He also let me know how worried he was, but that he knew I would be fine.
On July 4, 1997, I gave him a great grandson, I can only imagine that the joy I saw on his face when he first met my son was the same joy he had on his face when he met me. I have a wonderful picture of my grandpa holding my son the way he used to hold me, and they are just smiling at one another. It would be another two years before I would see him again. He was so excited when I was done with my tour of duty because it meant I was coming home. It wasn't long after I came home that we found out he had been keeping my grandma's Alzheimer’s a secret. He didn't want to worry us with it, we had our own lives to worry about and he was sure he could handle it.
Time went by and things went well for awhile, little by little I watched him crumble as my grandma's condition got worse. I helped as much as I could, went shopping for them, mowed the yard, cleaned the house and anything else that may have needed done. He would never let me do any of it for free, even though I insisted that I wanted to, he wouldn't hear of it. I didn't argue I took what he gave me. It wasn't long before his health started failing, whether it was stress or not I will never know. One year and a half later I quit my job, and decided not to finishing enrolling at Akron University so I could help him care for my grandma. I didn't know at the time, that he wouldn't be with me much longer.
He had to go in for surgery in December to have a stint placed on his Renal Artery to stop the aneurism the doctors had found from getting larger. He handled the surgery like a trooper, and was home in a few days. He was put on oxygen to supplement what his lungs could no longer process enough of, years as a rubber worker had scarred his lungs. He seemed to be doing fine until March, and then he complained of pain in his stomach region. My mother immediately made him an appointment. The aneurism was getting larger, there was nothing more they could do for him, and his artery was too weak for the stint.
March came and went, in April he went to the hospital for one last try to stop the bleeding, it didn't work. He came and was put on hospice care and was given morphine to stop the pain so he could breathe. That second week was the longest week of my life. On top of caring for my grandma, who at this point needed full time care, I was caring for him full time as well. Monday he was able to use the restroom with assistance, Tuesday I had to put him in diapers because he was too weak to walk. He was so upset; I had never seen my grandpa cry so hard, he was so ashamed. Wednesday he was in and out of consciousness, that evening he stayed up all night and screamed for me to keep him safe from the dark, so I sat in a chair and held his hand. Earlier that day my mom and I heard him talking to someone or something telling them that he only needed two more days and then he would be ready to leave. Thursday he slept all day, my mom stayed at the house to keep an eye on my grandmother so I could catch some sleep from the night before. Thursday night all was quiet, I gave him some morphine so he could breathe easier. Friday was April 11, I got up, got my grandma fed and dressed, changed grandpa and checked his breathing. I put my grandma on the couch and she soon fell asleep. I went into the room my grandpa was in and took his hands in mine, I told him it was okay if he needed to go. I would be fine without him taking care of grandma. I promised him I wouldn't leave her until she died, and I wouldn't let anyone take her out of their house. He didn't open his eyes, but he squeezed my hands, and I kissed his forehead. As I left the room I noticed what looked like Iodine on my hands where my grandpa had touched me, so I went to the bathroom to try and wash it off, then checked on my grandma. I went back in to check on grandpa, I hadn't even been gone for a minute and he was gone. I called my mom at work, and then I called my uncle. My mom got to the house first she immediately hugged me and said " Oh, my gosh! Today is your birthday." I had forgotten; part of me believes that mystery person was an angel and he was asking to stay until my birthday.
I will never know for sure who he was talking to. I will never know why the Iodine appeared that day and then disappeared the day his body was laid to rest. I will always remember the kind, gentle man that was my grandfather. I learned so much from him, he taught me love was the most important tool in life, that patience is more than just a virtue, devotion to family is what keeps us going, laughter is what keeps us sane and courage is what helps us hope. I could right a whole other paper just on the things he taught me about life. I can't tell how much I looked up to him, the only way I could think to even remotely repay him for all that he did for me was to help him in his hour, or in this case months of need and to continue after he was gone by caring for the woman he loved more than anything. As sad as I was the day he left, I am thankful I was there, I was thankful that the opportunity to share this part of the journey with him had arose. I still think of him often, especially on my birthday and it makes me feel better believing he's somewhere looking down on me. I will always carry him in my heart with me, I was his girl, his first grandchild, we had a special bond he and I, one I will always cherish.