Grandma.

A memoir I had to write for a English class, any input would be great!

I was staring at the ground, walking with my dad. He was unusually silent, but I didn’t think much of it. Breaking the silence, I burst into conversation, telling him about all the things that had just happened at my soccer practice. I told my dad every little detail. He only nodded his head and gave me a small acknowledgment.

Glancing up from the snow covered sidewalk, I scanned the almost completely empty parking lot for my dad’s green truck, spotting it; I ran to the door and waited for the familiar click of the truck being unlocked. I struggled to pull myself up, along with my heavy soccer bag, into the passenger seat. The rumble of the engine started, and I listened to the crunch of the frozen ground under the truck as we backed out. We began our almost daily drive home. I could picture the whole drive since I had done this so many times. My mind wandered as I stared out the window, I searched my memories of the day for the homework I was assigned, or the things that happened at school.

My dad hadn’t said a word to me. I assumed to he was tired, so I didn’t bother him. I noticed every small detail of the road flashing by the window. The snow covered in dirt and debris, homes with lights on and people inside, parking lots full of strangers walking and parked cars. I wasn’t distracted by conversation, that is, until my dad finally began talking.

“So, what’d you do at school today?” My dad asked. What a stereotypical question for a parent to ask, my dad never asked me that plain of a question, I thought. “Nothing much, just did some work and played kickball in gym.”

“Oh that’s nice, did anything interesting happen?” He responded. “Nope, not really.” Why did it seem like he was forcing conversation... I couldn’t quite pin what was different, but I don’t know if I really wanted to either. Again my mind wandered as I stared out the window, just as I saw Fred Meyers, I knew we were nearly home. I was impatient to get home and be able to escape the awkwardness of the car.

We drove passed all the nearby neighborhoods; I was able to name every single one of them as we passed, until finally, we arrived at my neighborhood. The glow of the houses lit up the neighborhood as the sun set. I wasn’t quite dark, but not light enough for daylight to light the insides of people’s homes.

We pulled into our driveway and I shuffled out of the car, pulling my bag behind me. I glanced back at my dad, still sitting in the car, fidgeting with his wallet in one hand and his phone in the other.

“I’ll be in in a moment, go on inside.” He spoke quietly, almost in a voice that sounded tired.

I walked through the garage and into the house; I sat down on the bench to take off my shoes. The only sound from inside was the muffled noise from the TV. That was also the only light on in the house. It was dark. Where is everybody? Why aren’t there any lights on? It’s almost dinner time, is dinner made? Where is it? Thoughts scattered my mind as I realized this wasn’t the daily routine of my family. Zach and Michelle would normally we watching TV or doing homework, and my Mom would be making dinner or doing work on her laptop. None of that was happening today and I had no idea why.

I walked through the house looking for some evidence of the change in routine. The bang of the door echoed through the house as my dad walked in behind me.

Deciding that he wouldn’t be a good source of information after the drive home, I searched for my brother. He sat in the living room, staring blankly at the TV screen.

“Where’s mom and Michelle?” I asked, almost impatiently. “They’re at Hanshew,” he told me in a simple, monotone voice. Why was everyone being so short with me! I couldn’t stand it. “Why!?” I pleaded for information. “Mom is getting sub, she’s leaving tonight. Grandma died.”

I didn’t know it was possible for two words to cause such an impact on somebody. My heart dropped and all that managed to escape my lips was, “Oh.”

I walked slowly upstairs as my mind recalled memories throughout the whole time my Grandma was sick. My mom was always miserable, this broke her. This was her mom. She couldn’t stand to see her mom so sick, sick with cancer, and I couldn’t stand to see my mom so depressed. Even to just look at my mom during this time caused me to feel uneasy, I just wanted her to be happy, but there was nothing I could do.

I trudged up the stairs, numb from the news about my Grandma. I didn’t want to be awake when my mom got home. I didn’t want to see her devastation, maybe it was selfish, but as a 12 year old, I couldn’t handle that. All I did was go up to my room and go to sleep.