Eyebrows Part Four

   The following is part of an original short story I wrote reflecting on memories of my late grandmother:

My Grandma knew when her last birthday was. She absolutely hated having her picture taken. If you were to come near her with a camera, she would scream, cover her face, or clobber you with her cane, or do two or three of those. But on her last birthday, she let me take a few pictures of her. This was absolutely amazing considering her feelings of photography. On a side note, I was actually taking a photography class in high school, but I eventually realized that my dream of being a photographer wasn’t the same thing as actually being a photographer. Unfortunately, the pictures came out awful and my last images of her were terrible. Looking at those images make me feel so bad.

Also on my Grandma’s last birthday, my Grandma’s son, a man I don’t get along with and hardly consider family came to celebrate with her. She hadn’t seen him in years, and this made her birthday special to see her son one last time.

            Later on in my Grandma’s life, she needed companionship. The doctor told my family that a pet could help enhance her life, especially at her age. My cousin had always wanted a dog, so this was a perfect reason to get one. She and that dog bonded instantly in a way we had never seen before. They just loved each other. That dog had many problems, but he loved his grandma. My grandma always sat in a recliner, and that dog would climb to the top of the chair, perch, and lay there, gently on her shoulder, causing her no pain.  They even had a picture together where the dog was sitting gently with my Grandma actually smiling, something she wasn’t known for. It is a beautiful picture, and since both have passed on, it really touches my heart.

The day my Grandma was brought to the hospital for the last time, my day had been awesome. My classes were great, I made many new friends, I had so much fun in school, which is often relatively rare. So I got the news upon getting home from a great day, it was instantly killed of all happiness.

Immediately after her passing, I didn’t want to do school. I avoided classes, my grades slipped, and my emotions went from wanting to do school to not doing school because I just felt so empty. However, my Grandma is the reason I am writing this, and not just because this story is funny and gave me lots of good memories. It was her faith in me. She always believed in me, supported me, and encouraged me. Now, if she hadn’t passed, I would’ve finished photography and been highly disappointed and given a grade out of pity which is what often happened in high school, and I would’ve been aiming at a career that looking back now did not suit me. After dropping photography, I picked up work study at my high school’s library. I replaced books to their shelves, shelf read, and special projects like folding pamphlets. Sound boring? I really wasn’t. I liked my work study so much that I decided to be an Information Management and Technology major at college to lead up to library science. I worked at my college library two years and realized it wasn’t right for me. Then I switched to an English Education major, which I used until after I left and came home, then realized education was also not my thing, which led me to an English/Journalism major, which I have a degree in. It seems odd, unrelated and disjointed, but my Grandma would be proud of how much I’ve grown and that I am writing this story for her about her.

When I was a kid, I suffered a major mental breakdown. My mom was in crying hysterics and called my Grandma, who cried with her.  I obviously don’t know it first hand, but the story has been relayed to me.