Essay about The Day My Grandfather Died

Essay about The Day My Grandfather Died

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It was a dark, frightening night the day my grandfather died. His tragic end occurred on July 10, 2009. I was 10 years old during that period, but I can recall everything as if it had happened yesterday. Since I was borned until I turned 11, my dad used to live in the United States and go to Mexico over Christmas break. Therefore, during most of the year, my mom, sister, brother and I used to go and live with my maternal family instead of staying alone in our home. We thought that it would be safer to stay with her family regardless the crowded space rather than having space in our home but being completely alone with no one protecting us. Of course, we didn’t know that we were moving in with the real danger every time.
My mother’s family is composed of six males and three females. She is the second to last in what respects to age order. The last one is her brother, Refugio. He was the spoiled one, the baby to my grandparents his whole life. Not to be excused, but probably the reason of his immaturity and bad choices. At that time, he was 27 years old. He had a 4-years old daughter, a 7-months old son, a girlfriend, and a drug abuse problem. He never took his responsibilities serious, he was all about the party life. He would work in the week to be able to feed his addiction, on the weekends he would get drunk, high, or would completely disappear, and occasionally on Mondays we would have to pick him out of jail or the hospital. His poor style of life didn’t afford him to at least have a private room, he had to share bedrooms with my grandparents and his family.
On a Saturday afternoon, my uncle got out with his friends. He was going to a wedding in town. When he left the house, he looked completely normal. H...

... middle of paper ...

...h the funeral arrangements and justice was never made for my grandpa.
Soon after the tragedy the family decomposed. His wife and children left the house. Two of my uncles and one aunt constructed their own homes and moved with their families. Christmas break came and we went back to our home. After eight months my grandma died. The doctors said that it was due to medical reasons, I think that she was just too sad. A year after my grandfather’s misfortune, we moved to Howard Lake, MN.
Now every summer we go and visit my mom’s family maybe once a month. We are very separate from each other. Nobody ever talks about the accident or about my uncle, seems like he died too. However, there are rumors that he goes and visits my grandfather to his tomb in the nights. Perhaps he wasn’t taken to prison, but he is paying his sentence, alone, and with so much guilt.

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