Throwback Tuesday

I found a thumb drive with homework, papers, and resumes from long ago.  As I sifted through the many files, I stumbled across some writing I completed for English 102 in 2007.  While the paper I am about to share is not my magnus opus, the paper shows that even 20-year-old Sarah knew what she wanted to do when she "grew up."  This paper has special meaning as I submitted my final paper today to complete my human services graduate degree.


I hope that you are all having a wonderful week.
-Sarah

Sarah Lewis

Professor Meyer

October 1, 2007

You’re the Inspiration

“Your grandfather died.”  My mind turned into a white sheet of paper, null of all thought and emotion.  After a moment, I remembered to breathe and the full weight of the situation came crashing upon my shoulders.  In hindsight, I am reminded of some lyrics from a Chicago song that ring very true: “And I need you here with me/From tonight until the end of time/You should know, everywhere I go/You’re always on my mind, in my heart, in my soul.” (SeekLyrics.com)

            I spent my entire life half a mile down the road from my grandparents.  When my parents went out on Saturday night, my sisters and I spent time with Grandma and Grandpa.  If we needed a ride to school, our grandparents would take us in the old Buick.  Every time my grandparents came to a school function Grandpa would somehow manage to pull some boy my age aside and tell him that I was the prettiest girl in school, no matter how many times I told him that it embarrassed me.  On Saturday mornings any passerby would see Grandma walking through the yard picking up sticks and Grandpa behind her on the riding lawnmower.

            When I was a freshman in high school, my grandfather found out his esophagus had been eroded by the gastric juices in his stomach from heartburn, which had then caused cancer.  Although his doctor urged him to proceed with surgery immediately, my grandfather decided against it until my grandmother had recovered from the knee surgery she had scheduled shortly thereafter.  By the time she was fully recovered and Grandpa was ready to have the surgery, the cancer cells had spread to other parts of his body.  Complications arose with his medication making it difficult to pinpoint a time to have the surgery.

            As time wore on, my lively grandfather grew paler and feebler.  The strong man whose lap I used to sit on could barely hold his head up to look at me when I went to the hospital to see him.  I would go to the hospital and do my homework on the off-chance that he might wake up long enough to laugh at a bad joke or blow me a kiss.  One night I was lying on my bed listening to music when I received a phone call from my dad telling me that I needed to bring my sister in to the hospital because Grandpa had had a stroke.  At the hospital, I walked into a room full of my family members, respirators, IVs, and one unresponsive grandfather.  I held his freckly hand in mine and let my tears soak into his nightgown; I told him I loved him, though I’m not sure if he heard me or not.

            A few days later at his wake, I stood in line between my dad and one of my sisters shaking hands with strangers and distant cousins.  I stood in amazement, watching the line that wound around the entire building and extended into the parking lot.  So many people arrived to give their condolences that the wake was extended by an hour.  I had never seen so many people at a wake before.  How many lives had he touched in his 85 years of existence?  The sign-in book didn’t have enough lines to hold all the names of the people coming to pay their respects, so at least as many lines as the book held.

            The eulogy ended with my grandfather’s favorite joke: “What did the combine say to the tractor?  Pull me a little closer, John dear.”  Grandpa laughed at the joke like he was hearing it for the first time every time, and although no one ever really found it funny at the first telling, it was hard not to laugh at each telling afterwards because Grandpa’s laugh was so infectious.  He touched so many people’s lives—he obviously was doing something right.  I am reminded of my grandfather whenever I see someone helping another, whenever I smell freshly cut grass, or whenever I hear a bad pun joke.

            Because my grandfather was a kind, caring man, he impacted countless lives.  His wake and funeral were proof enough for me.  I have decided to live my life so that he would be proud of me—I want to help others and so decided to become a gerentological social worker, working with the elderly.  If my grandfather could make such an impact on so many people, I know I can make a difference in the lives of others, too, especially if I remember to keep him with me at all times.  Chicago sings, “You’re the meaning in my life/You’re the inspiration.” (SeekLyrics.com) Remembering Grandpa reminds me that one person really can make a difference after all.

Works Cited

"Chicago Lyrics." You're the Inspiration. SeekLyrics.com. 25 Sep 2007