Thursday February 4th, 2010 at 2:00, this was the day and time when my world was flipped upside down and my heart was broken. It was a beautiful winter morning, the air was crisp and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. As I awoke on this memorable morning, my whole body felt anything but ordinary. I ran into my parents room with tears rolling down my face and demanded to stay home from school that day. They questioned why I was crying and I said “ it’s going to happen today, I need to be with her”. They didn't believe me at first and they did not want to take me out of school another day, but nothing they said stuck with me, I had to stay home. You might question who is this “her”, she is my grandmother, my beautiful, full of life grandmother.
This is the woman who made my days worth while, especially Mondays and Tuesdays. Mondays would be roast pork with Texas Toast on the side and Tuesdays would be pasta or escarole soup, but both days ended in fudge pops. Which my father never approved of but secretly would eat most of them. Whenever I would open her freezer I would count on a box of fudge pops just waiting there for me and my brother. The funny thing is, she hated the pops, but we loved them. Even though Monday’s and Tuesday’s were for the family, I spent most of my weekdays at my nana’s while my mom and dad were at work, her house was my second home, but she was my first Then as the years went by the pops weren't stocked as usual, and I knew something was wrong. Ill never forget the time she told me she was sick, we were in her living room and she was rubbing my legs telling me she was selling her house. I was so taken back I didn't know how to react, when I asked why she told me she was sick and that she was moving in with us. I asked how sick and she responded with her head down so I knew this wasn't good, I was excited for her to live with us, but for the wrong reasons. She started out with kidney failure and then to congestive failure which ultimately lead to organ failure. She slept in the room next to me and every night I would hear her painfully moan in her sleep so I would check on her to make sure she was ok. It killed me a little every day to see her in so much pain. The dialysis was helping and we thought we were on the road to recovery but, ended up right back at square one. Sadly, but funny enough we became friends with the paramedics due to the amount of times they came to my house to pick her up. As the months went by and the pain grew bigger my parents decided to place her in hospice and relieve her of her pain. I selfishly did not agree because I wanted her around as much as possible but, in the long run it made the most sense. I didn’t want my nana living the rest of her life watching the amount of fluid she has to drink in order for her to breathe, and coughing up blood on the hour. Thats no way to live, she deserved to rest and she deserved to be at peace. That morning, I have no idea what it was but there was something telling me that today was the day that she would pass. My parents thought she had another week or more left in her but with my certainty about this they decided to keep me home from school. My mother and I got everything ready at the house in order to stay at hospice all day. By noon, were on our way. All I recall seeing on the drive there was a giant Walmart to my right and my god it really was such a perfect day outside. As we arrived we both rushed right to her room, up the elevator and through the hallway we went, it was always so quite I felt awkward even coughing. As we walked in, we saw my uncle sitting beside her bed with his head down. I walk to the other side of her bed and held her hand. She was unresponsive at the time but she definitely had an idea of what was going on. I immediately turned on the TV to release the depressing and awkward tension in the room with my uncle and while I was scrolling through and something happened. The introduction of the show Reba started to play and I felt my nana squeeze my hand just the slightest bit, it was her favorite show so I knew to keep it on. After watching an episode or two I decided I was getting bored so of course my first instinct was eat or drink something. I ended up making a cup hot chocolate, there weren't a lot of options in the kitchen it was mostly just coffee, tea, hot chocolate and some stale cookies. As I was walking back to her room I made a quick pit stop to the bathroom to take a good look at myself, breathe, be alone, and gather my thoughts, I was thinking about the times we used to dance and laugh together, the times we used to go to the toy isle of Walgreens and buy silly toys for me, and the never ending boxes of fudge pops and Texas Toast all coming to an end. Did we all think she had at least another 10 years in her? Absolutely! But God had other plans for her, and we all had to understand that. While I was washing my hands I looked up at the mirror and my mother knocked on the door, came in and said “I am going to the bank really fast, I will be right back I promise, I love you”. She kissed me and left. I started walking back to my nana’s room as I was stirring the steam out of the cup with my straw. When my foot stepped over the entrance at the door I stopped saw the doctor sitting across her bed and my uncle across from him, looking down with his eyes closed, and shaking his head, it was 2 o’clock. It was like a truck just landed on my chest and my body went pure cold. I immediately dropped the filled hot cup into the trash and ran over to her and started to cry. This wasn't just an upset cry, this was a rip your heart out, stomach pit, kick you in the face cry. I had so many feelings I didn't know what to do with myself. I was shaking uncontrollably and started to have an anxiety attack, the doctors grabbed me a brown paper bag to breathe in and out of, but nothing worked. I just kept looking at her trying to make myself believe that it wasn’t real. All I wanted her to do was open her bright blue eyes and say I love you and hug me one more time. My uncle was in shock but decided to call my mother while she was gone and tell her the tragic news. I still remember hearing her screaming and the panic in her voice, knowing that she was not with me during this time. I held on to my nana’s hand for dear life and I never wanted to let go. My uncle saw my devastation and hugged me for literally 20 minutes until my mother arrived. When she did, her eyes were as red as mine. I mean, at that moment what else can you do but cry? This day was the worst most memorable days of my life. You can maybe see this as a bad way to remember her, but this is the story of how my home, my soul, was taken away from me; someone I can never return too. People live and die knowing that something in their life has a purpose and a home to return too, but I say not where but who. I miss her smile, I miss her hair, I miss her hugs, everything about that woman was pure gold in my eyes and Ill always wonder why she was taken from me at such a young point in my life, I always ask for her help because I know she's watching me and listening to me and guiding me with everything I do. The connection I had with her was like no other. She made me smile with everything she did, and brought light to my day. Surprisingly, It has been 7 years since her passing and I still feel like that day was yesterday . I feel her presence immensely in certain situations, I know she is watching over me and guiding me always.
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Thursday February 4th, 2010 at 2:00, this was the day and time when my world was flipped upside down and my heart was broken. It was a beautiful winter morning, the air was crisp and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. As I awoke on this memorable morning, my whole body felt anything but ordinary. I ran into my parents room with tears rolling down my face and demanded to stay home from school that day. They questioned why I was crying and I said “ it’s going to happen today, I need to be with her”. They didn't believe me at first and they did not want to take me out of school another day, but nothing they said stuck with me, I had to stay home. You might question who is this “her”, she is my grandmother, my beautiful, full of life grandmother.
This is the woman who made my days worth while, especially Mondays and Tuesdays. Mondays would be roast pork with texas toast on the side and Tuesdays would be pasta or escarole soup, but both days ended in fudge pops. Which my father never approved of but secretly would eat most of them. Whenever I would open her freezer I would count on a box of fudge pops just waiting there for me and my brother. The funny thing is, she hated the pops, but we loved them. Even though Monday’s and Tuesday’s were for the family, I spent most of my weekdays at my nana’s while my mom and dad were at work, her house was my second home, but she was my first Then as the years went by the pops weren't stocked as usual, and I knew something was wrong. Ill never forget the time she told me she was sick, we were in her living room and she was rubbing my legs telling me she was selling her house. I was so taken back I didn't know how to react, when I asked why she told me she was sick and that she was moving in with us. I asked how sick and she responded with her head down so I knew this wasn't good, I was excited for her to live with us, but for the wrong reasons. She started out with kidney failure and then to congestive failure which ultimately lead to organ failure. Sadly, but funny enough we were friends with the ambulance people due to the amount of times they came to my house to pick her up. As the years went by and the pain grew bigger my parents decided to place her in hospice and relieve her of her pain. I selfishly did not agree because I wanted her around as much as possible but, in the long run it made the most sense. That morning, I have no idea what it was but there was something telling me that today was the day that she would pass. My parents thought she had another week or more left in her but with my certainty about this they decided to keep me home from school. My mother and I got everything ready at the house in order to stay at hospice all day. By noon, were on our way. All I recall seeing on the drive there was a giant Walmart to my right and my god it really was such a perfect day outside. As we arrived we both rushed right to her room, up the elevator and through the hallway we went, it was always so quite I felt awkward even coughing. As we walked in, we saw my uncle sitting beside her bed with his head down. I walk to the other side of her bed and held her hand. She was unresponsive at the time but she definitely had an idea of what was going on. I immediately turned on the TV to release the depressing and awkward tension in the room with my uncle and while I was scrolling through and something happened. The introduction of the show Reba started to play and I felt my nana squeeze my hand just the slightest bit, it was her favorite show so I knew to keep it on. After watching an episode or two I decided I was getting bored so of course my first instinct was eat or drink something. I ended up making a cup hot chocolate, there weren't a lot of options in the kitchen it was mostly just coffee, tea, hot chocolate and some stale cookies. As I was walking back to her room I made a quick pit stop to the bathroom to take a good look at myself, breathe, be alone, and gather my thoughts, I was thinking about the times we used to dance and laugh together, the times we used to go to the toy isle of Walgreens and buy silly toys for me, and the never ending boxes of fudge pops and Texas Toast all coming to an end. While I was washing my hands I looked up at the mirror and my mother knocked on the door, came in and said “I am going to the bank really fast, I will be right back I promise, I love you”. She kissed me and left. I started walking back to my nana’s room as I was stirring the steam out of the cup with my straw. When my foot stepped over the entrance at the door I stopped saw the doctor sitting across her bed and my uncle across from him, looking down with his eyes closed, and shaking his head, it was 2 o’clock. It was like a truck just landed on my chest and my body went pure cold. I immediately dropped the filled hot cup into the trash and ran over to her and started to cry. This wasn't just an upset cry, this was a rip your heart out, stomach pit, kick you in the face cry. I had so many feelings I didn't know what to do with myself. I was shaking uncontrollably and started to have an anxiety attack, the doctors grabbed me a brown paper bag to breathe in and out of, but nothing worked. I just kept looking at her trying to make myself believe that it wasn’t real. All I wanted her to do was open her bright blue eyes and say I love you and hug me one more time. My uncle was in shock but decided to call my mother while she was gone and tell her the tragic news. I still remember hearing her screaming and the panic in her voice, knowing that she was not with me during this time. I held on to my nana’s hand for dear life and I never wanted to let go. My uncle saw my devastation and hugged me for literally 20 minutes until my mother arrived. This day was the worst most memorable days of my life. You can maybe see this as a bad way to remember her, but this is the story of how my home, my soul, was taken away from me; someone I can never return too. People live and die knowing that something in their life has a purpose and a home to return too, but I say not where but who. The connection I had with her was like no other. She made me smile with everything she did, and brought light to my day. Surprisingly, It has been 7 years since her passing and I still feel like that day was yesterday . I feel her presence immensely in certain situations, I know she is watching over me and guiding me always. In my opinion education is the most important thing in life, right next to life experience. I look at education like a lifestyle, not a priority. When I am in class I want to get the most out of what Im learning, I don't care what it is, science, history, math whatever. I may not be the smartest person, or test material but I do work hard. Although, I do think that education is completely over priced, the most valuable thing in life is the most expensive. Doesn't really add up, right? I never really realized this until this year. It hit me when the loans started to add up and the fact that community college was the best choice for me. Not only for me really, but for everyone.
I believe we should adjust our emphasis on education, and the way we teach. Teaching should be more interactive. Students may have very smart ideas, but lack the confidence to shout an answer. Students all learn differently; and teaching one specific way, no matter what that way is, will never have a full effect. Teachers and students should connect on a personal level. Our youth will be our future, and taking action now will lead to a better one for sure. College is a whole different ball game. And honestly, I genuinely do not believe that someone should know exactly what they want to do straight of college, let alone high school. I may be young, but I speak with people who are graduating with their bachelor’s in business, and they still aren't sure. I hear, “ I’m going to law school”, or “Oh I’m going into the family business”. In my mind, I figure why not just do that straight out of high school. My work experience has given me much more knowledge of the way things work than college ever could have. I’ve learned the value of the dollar. I’ve learned how to do my taxes. I’ve learned how to write a check. These are things that are necessary to live an average life, and skills that aren’t even taught until maybe the college level. Maybe never. Overall, I generally believe education needs to be revamped; and as I stated earlier, needs to be looked at as a lifestyle. Just because you graduated, doesn't mean you have to stop learning. Question #1: How does this episode fit into the narrative mode?
This particular episode is one of many; and to be honest I was absolutely blown away with the the way Mallman’s outlook on life was connected so well with food. He gave his story on a plate per say. “Show don’t tell” could literally be the title of this episode. His entire demeanor is presented in his food. The way it is created is so rustic and passionate that he has an entire series on his food alone. He is a man that lives with life not for it. Question #2: How does Mallman's story connect to the hiraeth story you are writing in this class? Consider his discussions about home and childhood. Patagonia, Argentina, “the deepest rooted feeling for home”. This was stated by Mallman himself. The reason he said this was because his real home is him, not an area. The meaning of hiraeth is a home that never was or a home you can never return too, but for Mallman his home was really never taken from him because like I said before he lives with life. Meaning that he goes with the flow and never looks back with regret. He's a content man and can only be around certain people for a certain amount of time, a true hippie. When he discovered his passion he was in class and these Australian women played music that just set his mind for life. He thought he would find his path in France learning from the best but when he was cooking he didn't enjoy the atmosphere around it. He is his home and and that’s something that can never be taken. Question #3: What major ideas/themes from this episode connect to ideas/themes from our composition course? Consider Mallmann's argument about composing a good dish, examining his life environments, and being productive. This class has everything to do with this particular series. The man uses nature to create delectable dishes. He loves things burned. Fire is the epitome of his food; without it, his food might as well be as good as burger king. The flames, the pits, the rustic atmosphere are what bring his food to life and so creative. It’s contradictory because when you think of fire, you think of destruction, but in his eyes, he sees potential. I keep referring back to “show don’t tell” only because it fits so well. Chefs create there story with food and we might not see it but they sure as hell do. Choosing a lifestyle and excelling in it is what we all dream of and watching someone achieve that is absolutely inspiring. This class isn't just a writing course, its a class to help you find yourself in a deeper consideration than what you've interpreted. Thats the majority of this episode, yes the food was insanely creative and so was his lifestyle. But the whole point was for him to show his hard work, his risks, his pain, and even his pleasure. I’m not saying go to France, become a mater chef, wear a poncho, and cook your food it a pit of fire, but I am saying find your passion and run with it. The nature vs nurture argument is an astounding conversation to be had. I myself have been the subject of many of these. Not even an hour ago, I listened to my parents bicker about whether children are more a product of their environment, or more a product of their family. I think its safe to say our environment has more of an impact. That may just be my opinion, but as I’ve grown, and learned various things through my life, I feel the surrounding environment has taught me much more than anything I could have ever learned at home. If I looked from the perspective of a ratio, it would be; environment: 70, home: 30.
I feel as though I’ve personally grown up in a generation that caught the beginning of major technological innovation, and the end of verbal communication. Apps like tinder, bumble, Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat and you name the rest, have diminished the concept of speaking to another person. Speaking is actually considered a skill on a resume. But realistically, it should be a trait. It’s definitely the number one skill/trait to have. Unfortunately, not everyone is as extroverted as myself. I don't think that is something I should be ashamed of. It’s actually something I should embrace. And I do. I have my family to thank for that. Growing up in an Italian household; I’ve been handed in a sense, a silver spoon. I’ve been taught the value of FAMILY. I’ve been taught money isn't everything. I’ve been taught empathy, sympathy, and how to be passionate. Tradition is a huge part of my life. My culture defines who I am. 150%. Using the values I’ve learned, my perception of life has taught me that the sky is the limit. My mother, who is my rock; has been a shoulder to cry on, and a friend to rely on. My dad has always been a provider. No matter the situation, he finds a way to make ends meet. My brother has been a dumbass, but definitely one of my biggest role models. That may just be my house, but I can assure you others would agree.These people are my nurture. They influence my behavior, and have helped me grow into a woman with a great demeanor, and kick ass intentions. But LIFE has taught me how to live. That may sound corny as hell, but read between the lines. My beliefs shadow my morals. My morals guide my life. And as I grow, I will remain humble. |
Who I am...I am me, and I will only strive to better myself and stand by my morals. I am am old soul with an empathetic heart and a loud mouth. I don't follow a certain path, I live every day with a purpose. I am your average 5'3 Italian with a big heart and even bigger dreams. Archives
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