When You Give A Girl A Grandmother

When You Give A Girl A Grandmother

You get an OG boss lady and a new generation boss lady.

Growing up, I have been blessed with many relatives. Most girls get a delicate grandma who loves to bake cookies and crochet. I didn't quite get that Grandma. I did not receive a Grams, Grammy, or G-Ma. I got a sassy, dream-chaser, hard-ass Grandmother.

My Grandmother is one of the most determined people I know. She still chases her goals and dreams as a Great Grandmother, today. My Grandmother has always inspired me to "start now, don't wait until later." She has continued to encourage me even if I don't see her every day.

I could remember being younger and telling my Grandmother about these amazing recipes I wanted to try but I didn't know where to begin. Well, she'd move us to the kitchen, pick out one of her many cookbooks and tell me to start here. We'd spend a few hours trying a new recipe for mashed potatoes. We'd learn from the experience and teach each other a new trick.

I loved to play arts and crafts when I would come home from school. My Grandmother would let me use any office supplies I needed to make whatever that was in my head. There were endless possibilities when you handed me every color marker and any scrap of paper I could get my hands on. She would always compliment my work when it was dry. I like to believe this sparked my future for graphic design.

My Grandmother always talked to me like I was another person. I was not just a sixth grader going through middle school and hating life, I was a person with a voice. She gave me life advice and gave me the truth. She never sugar-coated the truth. I needed that someone who was real with me.

I watched my Grandmother typing and researching facts for years. From before I was born, she was writing and gathering for a history book. My whole life I knew she was working on something important. When I was in high school, the book was published. I remember seeing her hold a copy of the book and seeing the accomplishment in her eyes. Something that I had seen her work on my whole life was finally a reality. I only hope to make a project like that come to life someday.

My Grandmother is not a Grams, Grammy, or G-ma. My Grandmother is not like the other Grandmas out there because she is mine. She isn't a delicate little lady. She is a role model, a rock, a straight-forward woman. I hope to be as laid back as her someday. I hope to encourage my daughters that come after me, like my Grandmother has encouraged me. I hope to accomplish my dreams no matter how many years it takes. I hope to stop and smell the roses like she has. I am so blessed to have a Grandmother.

Cover Image Credit: Peggy Wunder-Moritz

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Kit Kat On A Rainy Day

My grandpa went missing one rainy afternoon, but what happened later is very heartwarming!


It was a rainy afternoon in the middle of October. The road was covered in an almost invisible film of water, and mud seeped through the cracks of the sidewalk. The wind blew at a harsh and firm angle. The temperature was sharp and bitter. I was in 10th grade at the time and had just gotten back to school. I sat at my desk upstairs with my legs comfortably nuzzled against my chest. I admired the lavender fuzzy socks on my feet while very blatantly ignoring my homework and other responsibilities. I gently sipped warm apple cider, carefully making sure that it wouldn't burn my tongue whilst scrolling through my phone. This rainy afternoon in the middle of October was seemingly very normal.

I eventually picked up a pencil and reluctantly began my homework, but was very quickly distracted by the sounds of panicked yelling coming from downstairs. I quickly made my way to the scene so that I could figure out what was going on. My mom and grandma were in the kitchen crying and screaming. My grandma sounded agitated and afraid. My mom was barely able to make out coherent sentences as she scrambled to find my dad's contact in her phone. I shuddered and felt completely frozen when I was finally able to understand what was going on.

My 85-year-old grandpa who also has Alzheimer's was missing from our home. My stream of consciousness was abruptly interrupted as I heard the door leading to our garage slam shut. My mom was going to drive around our neighborhood to look for my grandpa, as he realistically could not have made it that far. I went back upstairs and sunk into my chair. My eyes were wide and I could hear my heart beating outside of my chest. I trembled and cried. These are the kinds of horrible and unfortunate stories that you read about or watch in the news. You never expect it to happen to a loved one. The gravity of the situation is heavy. It's a very obscure and different kind of pain, one that cannot be justified with words.

The next thirty or so minutes were a blur. I was not aware of how much time had passed, but I do remember hearing the slow creak of the garage open. I did not get up and I did not run down the stairs. Instead, I sat there. I sat firmly in my chair, numb and completely frozen. From where I was, everything was temporarily easier. The pain of sitting at my desk was less scathing than confronting whatever was waiting downstairs. And then, all of a sudden, I heard very slow and uneven steps coming up the stairs, accompanied by heavy breathing. It was my grandpa.

There he was, standing about three feet in front of me. I examined him, head-to-toe. He was soaked and there were remnants of mud on his pants and shoes. His glasses were covered in intricate droplets of water, and his light grey hair was disheveled. But that is not what stood out to me. What made me want to cry even more was the smile on his face that was beaming with love, as his eyes met mine. He steadily walked towards me, put his hand in his pocket, and I watched his fragile hands shake as he pulled out a Kit Kat bar.

"For you!" He said with a little laugh.

- - -

My mom had found my grandpa in a Walgreens right outside our neighborhood. To this day I still don't know how he got there, and I do not care to know the exact fundamentals of how he got from point A to point B. This is a man whose life and memories have been unfairly taken from him. This is a man who can barely make out a sentence in either Hindi or English. This is a man who, to this very day, cannot remember my name or who I am. However, what this disease has failed to do is strip him of his innate kindness. His mind might be impaired but his ability to love is immortal and unbreakable.

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