My Grandfather

My Grandfather
The most inspiring person I have in my life is my grandfather, Raing Chhorm. He is a father of 3 beautiful daughters. His wife, which is my
grandmother, name is Heang Sok and my grandfather always put his family first before his wellbeing. This man Is the most prideful human being
I know he never asks others for help. The reasons I'm so inspired by my grandfather is because he's openminded, courageous, loving. Before my
grandfather was a father he was a Cambodian Buddhist monk. He was very big on helping others and as a job of a monk is to pass the teachings of
buddha, such as reincarnation, to keep a steady mind or even how a person is supposed to be allowed to have chances to make them self–better. With
being a monk, you go into a phase where you see yourself becoming more and more openminded. Where judgements weren't allowed to even be
thought in your head. He's quick to anyone without even thinking twice on a person's intentions of trying to rob him or if he was helping an
suspicious person. When being openminded your open to suggestions and new things, such as food, clothing, languages, etc. In the year off 2015,
my grandfather was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. For some of you who do not know the function of your pancreas is to convert everything you
eat into fuel for body's cells and also regulates blood sugar. The chances of fighting this cancer is 20% out of 100%. Some people get lucky and others
don't have much luck, but the only thing you can do is to try to
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Narrative about My Grandfather Essay
That Special Someone, Grandpa I have an abundance of grotesque, yet, barely visible memories of childhood. However, no breathtaking family trips,
no unique family togetherness that taught a moral lesson, no abnormal holidays. We still ate family meals together, but most often the children and
adults lived in different worlds. When I needed comforting or wanted the best of both worlds, I could turn to my Grandpa. I distinctly remember the
weeknights at his house. Sitting upon his lap, walking down the street, getting pulled in my wagon through a park––these were things I loved doing
with Grandpa. I was not just another person to him: I was the ultimate grandson, and I was special. "Grandpa was a giant of a man. He stood six...show
more content...
He went to work when he was sixteen, and for the next forty years he worked in a coal factory. Then he worked in a steel mill for another twenty
years. He stopped working only because the steel mill closed and he was too old to find another job. When I was with Grandpa, I could be a child and
yet see things through grown–up eyes. "You see that tree, Bud," he would say. "That tree was here before those houses. Kundinger 2 God put that tree
there, man put the houses. Which is more beautiful?" If I climbed a tree, he would not say, "Get down." He said, "Climb it right so you won't fall."
"You appreciate what you work for," he used to say. He taught that lesson well. He never let me win any game, he taught me to win by learning to
lose. If he couldn't answer a question, he was honest about it, but he would also say, "Why don't you find out and let me know too." He listened to
me and he heard my feelings, not just my words. There was a tougher side to Grandpa, and I suppose this, too, made him unique with poise. He never
would let rudeness from one who knew it was wrong. Young children may be blunt but those are kids. Adults showing rude, obscene things towards
women were not allowed––in his presence. Grandpa is almost ninety–five and now resides in a nursing home. The leg he fractured forty years ago is
too weak to carry his weight. His eyes are going bad. But to me he's still the big, strong man who used to take his grandchild in his arms and rock to

My Grandfather
Sometimes it is difficult for kids to become really close with their grandparents, but for me it was easy. Ever since I met my grandpa, I have had
this connection with Gramps that has just continued to grow. Most people have nicknames for their grandparents, but for me it is plain and
simple, just Gramps. To me, he isn't just my grandpa, he is one of my friends because of the impact he has had on my life. Gramps has turned me
into who I am today. He has brown eyes that remind me of sweet chocolate, they are always so easy to picture in my mind. I could stare into his
eyes for days and it would never get old. However, he has thick old glasses that cover his rich brown eyes. To go along with his eyes, he is always
wearing his polo shirts, with all different types of khaki pants. His favorite polo is his pink polo, and when he wears it he always says, "real men
wear pink." Every time he says that, I still laugh no matter how many times that he has said it to me. To go along with his outfit, he wears old
brown shoes all the time unless he is doing athletics. One early morning, when I was ten, I woke up to my mom saying, "Sean your grandparents
are going to the soccer tournament in Florida." From that moment on I realized how much Gramps cared for me, and him being there for me
impacted who I was as a soccer player and as a person. However, the good news was, that was the beginning of the best trip of my life. We woke up at
7 am for our 9:30 am flight out of Cleveland Hopkins

My GrandfatherвЂ™s House Essay
My grandfather's house is a very special place to be. I lived with my grandfather for many years when I was little. His house always seemed to have
something about it that set it apart from all the rest. As you walk into the front door of his house you notice a long, slender stairway that led up into
the main hallway of the house. The strong smell of cigarette smoke is quite evident when you reach this point. Yes, my grandfather did smoke. My
grandfather's house was always full of laughter and many cheers. Our family used to call it the M.A.R.T.A station. There was always someone over his
house visiting whether it was family or friends. My grandfather's door was always open to everyone no matter what. When my grandfather had
company,...show more content...
In the summer time my grandfather and whoever happened to be at the house would sit out on the sundeck for hours and talk about anything and
everything imaginable; he was known as the neighborhood gossip king. The sundeck was a place for everyone to sit and relax in the warm sunny
breeze. My grandfather was a very spontaneous person, he did what he wanted to at the drop of a hat and nobody ever stopped him, and would not
let a job go until he was fully satisfied with it. He was always very active in many things like playing sports, gardening, cooking, farming, etc., but
always had time for the ones he loved. Living at my grandfather's house was indeed a lot of fun because he was so easy going with me, our
grandfather played games with us, the more physical the better. He allowed me to do all the things that I wanted to do and dreamed about. He was
always willing to lend me a hand in anything that I needed. He was a highly giving person to everyone around him and he never asked for
anything in return. He always had an ear to ear smile that would brighten up anyone's day if it was not going to well. My grandfather had a very
deep, but a fading, kind of scratchy voice that I remember he sung us to sleep when we were little. He would wait with us until we fell deep asleep
and in the morning he would wake us with the smell of hot freshly cooked breakfast on the table. My grandfather could cook, he

Essay On My Grandfather
I think the person who has had the most profound effect on my life besides my parents is my grandfather. I never realized before how much of an
effect he had on my interests and goals for the future. Years ago, he used to tell me stories about historical events and experiences he had fighting in
Vietnam and my great grandfather fighting in World War 2. His vivid descriptions always made it so interesting and, in some cases, more light
–hearted
than what actually happened. To this day he still has more stories to tell me, and never fails to captivate my interest. In doing this, he opened my
eyes to my biggest interest, history, and encouraged me to pursue this interest throughout school. I feel like it would help to give a short summary of
his life and how it affected me. My grandpa was born in 1946 and has 5 siblings, with him being the oldest among them. His father immigrated to
Minnesota from Germany a few years before World War 2. My grandpa told me stories about my great
–grandpa fighting for the Americans during the
war, and at one point he captured for several months by the Germans. He said they treated him surprisingly well, with his release following the
collapse of Germany and Soviet occupation of Berlin. After the war, he returned to his farm in Minnesota where I believe he spent the rest of his life
working until his death. My grandpa and his siblings also spent most of their childhood and teenage years helping on the farm. When my grandpa turned

My Grandfather Essay
My Grandfather– The Gift of My Life
If I could be like anybody, I would wish to become more like my late grandfather, whose memories have inspired me to strive for success, like the
smell of old, dusty books which reminds me of his admiration on learning. An avid collector, he had many books, most of which went unread. He
owned books on everything from medicine to Spain, to several sets of encyclopedias. After he faced health problems, he came less to the library
and read fewer books. They became just part of the scenery, collecting only dust and memories. I have read a few now, after he is gone, and each
time it brings back a hurt like a sore that refuses to heal. But I suppose it is a quest of sorts, because if can take on his thirst...show more content...
This house had two floors with three bedrooms on the top floor and the storage rooms, where some of the goats also stayed, on the ground floor. The
house was built in the late 1800s before my father was born, it was my grandfather's skills in organizing family members and his strategic direction, of
delegating the business operation to his several sons, according to their skills and abilities. The result is a strong group interaction that has created the
foundation of our family business, which is considered one of the most successful family businesses in Yemen. However, I believe it is his independent
endeavor that established his early success in business, as is evident by the roughness of his hands, a roughness resulting from the labor of his work
throughout his life. At the same time, my father told me he would hold my father's hands, so gently with his rough hands when having a conversation
with my father.
The saddest part of my memories of grandpa was the day my father took me along with him to visit my dying grandfather, whose eyes seemed to be
drifting aimlessly around the room while his body and face remained numb. I still recall staring at his tanned and wrinkled skin that covered his
forearms and showed his veins in painful detail, and at the way he sometimes used his heel to scratch at his other leg.
I suppose it is hard not to notice a kid who has his face turned towards you week after week, year after year. But

My Grandfather Essay
Narrator's grandfather was a black, freed slave who lived in a time where prejudicism was high, though slavery was abolished. The narrator's
grandfather was perceived as a very great man who did not say much. Though when he laid on his deathbed, he revealed some surprising truth.
Narrator's grandfather told his son, "Son, after I'm gone I want you to keep up the good fight. I never told you, but our life is a war and I have been a
traitor all my born days, a spy in the enemy's country ever since I gave up my gun back in the Reconstruction." (qtd. Ellison 279). Though this can have
different connotations to it, it can essentially mean that the narrator's grandfather believes he is a traitor to the black community because he has just kept
...show more content...
Ellison 286). Then the character wakes up with his grandfather's laughter in his ear. This relates to an earlier incident when the narrator was given a
scholarship in an envelope. The narrator had gotten beaten and later received this envelope.The words "Keep This Nigger–Boy Running" essentially
means for the narrator to keep going and the advice the narrator's grandfather gave his working. If the narrator keeps conforming to the whites, the
blacks can get a head in society and segregation can be limited or even abolished.
In the story "Two Kinds" Mr. Chong is a perfected representation of a flat character. Mr. Chong was a retired deafpiano player who was teaching
Jing–Wei, the protagonist, how to play the piano. Mr. Chong's character really did not change too much throughout the story. He was a minor but
effective character in the story. Him being deaf played a major in role in the story. Jing–Wei later on confessed, " I hit the wrong notes because I hadn't
practiced enough, I never corrected myself" (Tan 209). Jing–Wei was lazy and did not practice so she just played in the rhythm so she did not get in
trouble. If the Mr. Chong was not deaf, he can correct these mistakes and the Jing–Wei could not be lazy. Later on in the story Jing–Wei had to perform
in front of her mom and her moms friends. She did horrible in the performance and her mom got very mad at her because she wanted her to be a
prodigy. This caused a lot disupte amongst the both of them which caused the

My Grandfather : A Short Story
"I can't believe that's true!" I exclaimed, my laughter echoing through the room. My grandpa and I had been chatting on the phone for the past half
an hour. You would imagine a man his age would be boring and dull. However, he was quite the joker. At least with me, since I was, of course, his
favorite granddaughter. Then, out of nowhere, he started coughing roughly. I waited a few moments, for his coughs to die down. However, they
only got worse. "Grandpa?" I asked, not quite sure he heard me. "Are you okay?" I said, louder this time. BANG! I heard the sound of a body
dropping, and the line went dead. "GRANDPA!!" I screamed, panic building up in my body. Both my parents burst through the doors, looking slightly
concerned. "Mehak, why are you screaming?" My mom questioned. My eyes started to get watery, thinking of all the terrible possibilities, and I got a
feeling in my gut that something was wrong. "Grandpa... H–he...w–were t–talking a–and h–he started c–coughing a–and the l–line w–went d–dead." I
stuttered, not knowing what to think. My dad flew out of the room, probably to contact my grandma about what was going on. "Don't worry, Mehak,
your grandpa is just fine, we'll get in touch with him as soon as possible though." My mom assured me, standing by the door. "Maybe you should go
check on dad..." I trailed off, just wanting space. Besides my dad, tended to get over–worked on the smallest of things, and this situation was only 1000
times worse. My

My Hero, My Grandfather Essay
My Hero, My Grandfather My grandfather was a very loving man, he loved his family more than anything he had known. The only thing that could
compare to his love for his family, was his love for his country.
In his life he would have to make many sacrifices for his country, and the second would be supporting his wife and kids. He took on hardships with ease
, he always had a certain calmness to him, this is something I idolize about him, I would like to learn how to act this way. He's my hero because he was
special, not like anyone else I have ever met, he knew he was special, but he never he never flaunted it. In this essay I will try to paint a picture of my
hero, and give examples of why my grandfather is my hero.
In...show more content...
He met my grandmother when he was twelve years old, and she was nine years old. They would go to dances, and they would enjoy each others
company in the cheapest way they could, because their money was limited. After two years the they fell in love, and knew they were destined to be
together. They would talk about marriage, and what they wanted to grow up to be, and about having children, and how many. In 1948, my grandpap
enlisted into the US army, because he knew he was too young and he didn't have enough money to get married. He knew by joining the military, it
would open new doors for him. In order to sign up, he changed his birth certificate. So he said bye to his girlfriend, my grandmother, and left for basic
training.
In 1949, my grandpap was sent to Korea. While in the military, he and my grandmother would write to each other, to keep their relationship in tact.
He would serve three chaos filled years in Korea. While in Korea, he was wounded in three different places during two different occasions. The first
time he was wounded by a hand–grenade, he was hit in the head, which caused some impairment in his right eye, and he was also hit in the foot, he
spent three months in a hospital where his toe was amputated. He would tell me that when you were hit "it felt hot at first, but then it would get cold".
I never quite understood this sensation, because I have never experienced it, this is one of the many things he tried to teach me

Personal Narrative Essay About Grandpa
When I was six years old, my grandpa left my life so suddenly that it didn't feel real. My grandpa was the only father figure I had at that time since
my father was still in the Philippines. When he left me I felt alone. I didn't understand at that time, but my grandpa was the most impactful person in
my life. I never got to tell him the one thing I should have told him. The morning was cold on that Thursday, you could feel the September breeze
inside my room. As I arose from my bed, my mother came barging into my room and screams at me to wake up. This was a daily thing, so I was
used to it. As I got out of bed, I hurried and changed into my school clothes for the day. Then I ran straight to my grandpa's room where he was watching
...show more content...
As I turned into my driveway, I saw I big red vehicle that had the words "Medic One." I didn't know what that meant, or who that car was for. The
only thing I knew was that it was bad. Was it for my grandpa, grandma, or someone else in the family. I rushed into the house so fast, I almost tripped
on the stairs to the front door of my house. My heart sank when I saw who was on the stretcher, it was my grandpa. I shiver went down my spine.
What happened to him and if he was going to be okay. All I knew was that he was going to the hospital. I spotted my aunt, and grandma talking to
the paramedics. But, my brother came and got me, so I wouldn't see a thing. It was too late for that. No one told me anything, I was kept in the dark
and it was frustrating. The one person I cared about was hurt and I couldn't do anything about it. I knew what was going on for the most part, but no
one would tell me the truth or give me answers. They kept me in the dark. I looked at my window, and caught a glimpse of the paramedics loading my
grandpa into the ambulance and drove off with my grandma and my aunt. It was around 9–o'clock pm when my uncle came to pick me and my two
brothers up from my house to bring us to the hospital. In the car, everyone was silent. not a single word. It was like a midnight sky on a cloudless
night, silence. When we got to the hospital we were the last ones to arrive. My mother, friends and

My Grandfather
As a young man, I was raised by my Grandparents. It was from my Grandfather that I learned how to be a man. From him, I acquired the value of a
great work ethic, the importance of truthfulness, and of living a life that not only you but, of one that your family could be proud. My Grandfather
would always say something impressing that having a good name would carry me further than anything else in life. There is an essay in Ideas Across
Time: Classic And Contemporary Readings For Composition, by Igor Webb, in which Socrates makes a statement that reminds me of the words that I
would often hear from my Grandfather. Plato writes, in Socrate's Defense (Apology), after being sentenced to death, Socrates tells the jury that
"nothing can harm a...show more content...
As a young boy, I would often hear the older men tell me that there are "repercussions and consequences" for everything. While in my wild youth I
never really understood this, until faced with having to. As I matured, I would later discover my internal moral compass, and it would consistently
point me in the direction of the talks with my Grandfather for guidance. Eventually, through the experiences of life, the hills and the valleys, my
determination to apply what I learned from my youth would have me arrive at a place in my life where my wife and children refer to me as "a good
man." What a humbling honor that is. I am thankful for the life that my Grandfather lived. While alive, my Grandfather impacted those around him
positively. He brought out the best in others and sought to make a difference wherever he could; I choose to do the same. It is primarily because of
him that I eventually pursued a career in law enforcement. I desired a vocation that was honorable; one that served and defended others. Law
Enforcement allowed me to walk out in life the values that he instilled in me. He has been gone for more than thirty–five years now, however to this
day, when people speak of him, the first thing they mention is that he was a good man. It is through the life and death of my Grandfather that I
understand what Socrates was attempting to leave with those who had just condemned him. Each of us makes our mark in life by how we live it and
in how we interact

My Grandfather : Short Story
The months leading up to the passing of my grandfather is series of events that (although tragic) I value because I now understand the pieces of
life that, rather than having been taught, I learned through personal experience. An aspect of my life i came to find out is that there is no amount
of time spent on people who have came and left your life that your future self will approve of. Finally I came to understand that accepting the loss
of a loved one without showing your emotions is easier said than done. Whatever the case here is my memoir and for however oneself finds these
ideas I bid them an easier way than I. It was around the end of 7th grade when my grandmother (whom of which was previously divorced to my
biological grandfather) was driving me home from school on an ordinary day when she told me the diagnosis of my grandfather who was in the
third stage of pancreatic cancer. I was originally unphased by the news not knowing what it entailed for the next six months and the rest of my
life. It wasn't for about a week after the news that I was in the car with my dad and brother on the way to visit my grandpa at Denver General
Hospital. I don't remember distinctly but I now look back on this car ride and feel as if it had an eerie silence that was not to be broken. We
arrived at the hospital at I don't even know what time but it was certainly daytime. I walked in the door and I put on the hand sanitizer in the lobby
that of which has a stench that I will forever associate with the demise of my grandfather. We walked to the elevator, pressed the button for the
cancer ward, and went up just as I would for weeks to come. Arriving on the cancer ward was peculiar in that although I had no understanding for
what was to come, I felt a chill like it was the one cold day in hell. The entourage and I approach the desk asking for Tom Degerlia, my grandfather's
room, and we meandered towards the room he was in as we eventually stepped in I finally learned that I had come to see him in a worse state than I
had seen prior to this, yet the best state I would ever see him from then on. I remember he didn't look distinctly pale but had a sickly rasp to his voice
in spite of the fact that he did not avoid conversation

My Grandfather

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My Grandfather