I would post that at writing, but it's just too personal to be added there. For the title, I'm talking about black as a colour who at least to me brings lots of sadness... that's one of the reasons why I hate it and why I don't wear almost anything in black colour.
Black doesn't just bring sadness, it brings pain and death as well.
And that's where I'm going to start.
In last two years I wore black only two times... but soon I'm going to wear it one more time.
I wear black clothes only on funerals.
Today I lost someone very special to me.
It happened so fast I couldn't even say goodbye or at least see her for one last time.
My grandmother, who partly raised me, take care of me when I was ill, supported my artistic skills and always had time to talk with me has passed away today.
It was just normal day when it happened. My dad wasn't home yet when mom said that grandmother had a stroke and was taken into hospital. I was afraid, but I knew my grandmother was a fighter.
When dad came home dressed in dark clothes I was afraid of the worst even more. I couldn't believe it when dad said she didn't make it. All of sudden... I kept asking why. Why now? How could it happend? I was always proud of how healthy my grandmother lived comparing it to other older people. And many older people I knew had many strokes and still made it out okay.
For now I'm just trying to remember as much as I can about her, becuase she was really close to me. Sometimes even more than my parents.
I remember when I was four and got ill pretty fast duo to my sensetive health. Even though my grandparents lived really far away, dad always took me there when I was ill. Grandmother took care of me, tucked me into bed and told me stories while grandfather just tried to make me laugh. Her stories are probably the reason for my love of writing. She never read them to me from story books, always made up her own. I even remember one where she used me as a main character, as knight who searches for treasure through many mysteries. If I'll ever remember the whole story... I'll do my best to write it as the most special story ever.
When I got older my grandparents always took me somewhere for summer and autumn holidays. I liked once when we went to mountains and they managed to convince me to climb higher than them. As for summer holidays they were always the greatest. I spend a week in their house and every day there was something to do. But I always woke up early enough to watch the hawks in the morning and perhaps deer, dormice or squirrels. In the afternoon when grandfather took his nap me and grandmother went for a walk and sometimes took their black dog with us. Doggie named Roki was a really nice dog, always looking for something to play with.
Roki was euthanasied when I was less than nine years old duo to weakness in his health. I still miss him.
R. I. P. Dog Roki
I was over ten years old but still going on those unforgettable holidays. They came to visit me too, during birthdays, Christmas, Easter and such. I remember once when I really wished to have remote control car for my birthday. I didn't tell that to anyone, but my grandmother knew. I was so happy when I opened that box. I still have this car in my room and it works too, just needs batteries.
School was starting to get tough, but I still love the times when she called me through phone. Even when I had hard tests the next day, I took those ten minutes for chat. Her voice made me happy and optimistic. For the times I still came for holidays I loved the times when we were on couch with my head in her lap. I feel asleep many times becuase she was stroking my hair so gently. Even my mom could never stroke my hair in the same way she did. I also really liked the last day of my holidays when we surprised my parents with baking something sweet.
After I was thirteen, black things slowly began happpening. Besides me finishing the elementary school, grandfather has started having problems with his health. He had a tumour and needed to go on surgery after which he was never the same anymore. He was so weak, staying in bed for most of the days.
I lost him last year, wearing black clothes for the first time.
During the funeral I didn't cry which was the most difficult thing I ever did. Grandfather always tried to make me laugh and I clearly knew he hated to see me cry. I really hope he's happy now, where ever he is.
R. I. P. Grandfather Peter
Months after he passed away were difficult. I still have this feeling inside my chest when I enter my grandparents' house. It was sad enough to not see Roki anymore. Now grandfather isn't is his usual chair with that funny look anymore.
I had hard time in school, not laughing from my heart as I usually did, only had a slight smile. Grandmother called many times and I was really glad to talk with her. She always knew what was wrong and how to cheer me up.
I knew grandmother had much more difficult time than me. That's why I also tried to call her back or find an excuse to visit her. She was
wearing black clothes for a year and every time I saw her, I fought with sadness that black brought.
The second time I needed to wear black clothes wasn't for someone I knew.
Classmate's father has passed away more than a month ago, aged only 51, in an accident. I remember the moment when he found out, right when we were returning home from school trip. I sat right behind him on bus when he heard the terrible news through cell phone. He burst out crying as never before.
I didn't know what to say beside I'm sorry. Pain of losing someone is much greater than anything to describe.
Entire class came to the funeral and he was really glad that we all came. Week later he came back to school and tried to be his old self as much as he could. We both talked a lot too and I'm glad if my words helped healing his pain.
During the difficult surgery I had only four weeks ago, my grandmother kept calling me to see if I was alright. First two weeks after the surgery that were also the most painful ones, she called me and tried to cheer me up.
I still remeber the last phone call.
I was painting my seventh flag for summer camp when she called me. I put down the brush for those five minutes for a chat. She asked me how I finished my third year of High School and I proudly said I had Chemistry, her favorite subject, 4 out of 5. Other than that she asked about how my penfriend is doing ( I showed some of his letters to her and even his photo on which she commented that he had a nice smile ), if my leg is feeling alright and simmilar stuff. I remember that I was really cheerful when we talked and even older sister joined.
When I said goodbye I didn't know it was the last one. Since that day I never seen or heard her.
I'm looking back to see all those memories wrapped in colourful paints of a rainbow. Now there's just an empty house with not just doggie and grandfather gone.
Grandmother won't be there as well.
Wherever you are grandmother, I hope you're happy.
You've given me things I needed the most, your support, your kidness and your love.
I'll miss seeing your name on my cell phone when it rings. I've talked to you longer than to any of my friends.
With your words I'm seeing the world with much brighter eyes. You taught me how to be an optimistic person, how to aplogize and make someone happy in the best way possible.
You'll always be in my heart, in this special place where only the closest friends belong.
From this way forward I'm writing for you. Your stories inspired me to use my day dreaming for writing my own stories that will never be lost.
Thank you for a rainbow of memories you've been giving be for seventeen years.
R. I. P. Grandmother Ana
I love you granny and thank you again for opening my eyes.
I would post that at writing, but it's just too personal to be added there. For the title, I'm talking about black as a colour who at least to me brings lots of sadness... that's one of the reasons why I hate it and why I don't wear almost anything in black colour.
Black doesn't just bring sadness, it brings pain and death as well.
And that's where I'm going to start.
In last two years I wore black only two times... but soon I'm going to wear it one more time.
I wear black clothes only on funerals.
Today I lost someone very special to me.
It happened so fast I couldn't even say goodbye or at least see her for one last time.
My grandmother, who partly raised me, take care of me when I was ill, supported my artistic skills and always had time to talk with me has passed away today.
It was just normal day when it happened. My dad wasn't home yet when mom said that grandmother had a stroke and was taken into hospital. I was afraid, but I knew my grandmother was a fighter.
When dad came home dressed in dark clothes I was afraid of the worst even more. I couldn't believe it when dad said she didn't make it. All of sudden... I kept asking why. Why now? How could it happend? I was always proud of how healthy my grandmother lived comparing it to other older people. And many older people I knew had many strokes and still made it out okay.
For now I'm just trying to remember as much as I can about her, becuase she was really close to me. Sometimes even more than my parents.
I remember when I was four and got ill pretty fast duo to my sensetive health. Even though my grandparents lived really far away, dad always took me there when I was ill. Grandmother took care of me, tucked me into bed and told me stories while grandfather just tried to make me laugh. Her stories are probably the reason for my love of writing. She never read them to me from story books, always made up her own. I even remember one where she used me as a main character, as knight who searches for treasure through many mysteries. If I'll ever remember the whole story... I'll do my best to write it as the most special story ever.
When I got older my grandparents always took me somewhere for summer and autumn holidays. I liked once when we went to mountains and they managed to convince me to climb higher than them. As for summer holidays they were always the greatest. I spend a week in their house and every day there was something to do. But I always woke up early enough to watch the hawks in the morning and perhaps deer, dormice or squirrels. In the afternoon when grandfather took his nap me and grandmother went for a walk and sometimes took their black dog with us. Doggie named Roki was a really nice dog, always looking for something to play with.
Roki was euthanasied when I was less than nine years old duo to weakness in his health. I still miss him.
R. I. P. Dog Roki
I was over ten years old but still going on those unforgettable holidays. They came to visit me too, during birthdays, Christmas, Easter and such. I remember once when I really wished to have remote control car for my birthday. I didn't tell that to anyone, but my grandmother knew. I was so happy when I opened that box. I still have this car in my room and it works too, just needs batteries.
School was starting to get tough, but I still love the times when she called me through phone. Even when I had hard tests the next day, I took those ten minutes for chat. Her voice made me happy and optimistic. For the times I still came for holidays I loved the times when we were on couch with my head in her lap. I feel asleep many times becuase she was stroking my hair so gently. Even my mom could never stroke my hair in the same way she did. I also really liked the last day of my holidays when we surprised my parents with baking something sweet.
After I was thirteen, black things slowly began happpening. Besides me finishing the elementary school, grandfather has started having problems with his health. He had a tumour and needed to go on surgery after which he was never the same anymore. He was so weak, staying in bed for most of the days.
I lost him last year, wearing black clothes for the first time.
During the funeral I didn't cry which was the most difficult thing I ever did. Grandfather always tried to make me laugh and I clearly knew he hated to see me cry. I really hope he's happy now, where ever he is.
R. I. P. Grandfather Peter
Months after he passed away were difficult. I still have this feeling inside my chest when I enter my grandparents' house. It was sad enough to not see Roki anymore. Now grandfather isn't is his usual chair with that funny look anymore.
I had hard time in school, not laughing from my heart as I usually did, only had a slight smile. Grandmother called many times and I was really glad to talk with her. She always knew what was wrong and how to cheer me up.
I knew grandmother had much more difficult time than me. That's why I also tried to call her back or find an excuse to visit her. She was
wearing black clothes for a year and every time I saw her, I fought with sadness that black brought.
The second time I needed to wear black clothes wasn't for someone I knew.
Classmate's father has passed away more than a month ago, aged only 51, in an accident. I remember the moment when he found out, right when we were returning home from school trip. I sat right behind him on bus when he heard the terrible news through cell phone. He burst out crying as never before.
I didn't know what to say beside I'm sorry. Pain of losing someone is much greater than anything to describe.
Entire class came to the funeral and he was really glad that we all came. Week later he came back to school and tried to be his old self as much as he could. We both talked a lot too and I'm glad if my words helped healing his pain.
During the difficult surgery I had only four weeks ago, my grandmother kept calling me to see if I was alright. First two weeks after the surgery that were also the most painful ones, she called me and tried to cheer me up.
I still remeber the last phone call.
I was painting my seventh flag for summer camp when she called me. I put down the brush for those five minutes for a chat. She asked me how I finished my third year of High School and I proudly said I had Chemistry, her favorite subject, 4 out of 5. Other than that she asked about how my penfriend is doing ( I showed some of his letters to her and even his photo on which she commented that he had a nice smile ), if my leg is feeling alright and simmilar stuff. I remember that I was really cheerful when we talked and even older sister joined.
When I said goodbye I didn't know it was the last one. Since that day I never seen or heard her.
I'm looking back to see all those memories wrapped in colourful paints of a rainbow. Now there's just an empty house with not just doggie and grandfather gone.
Grandmother won't be there as well.
Wherever you are grandmother, I hope you're happy.
You've given me things I needed the most, your support, your kidness and your love.
I'll miss seeing your name on my cell phone when it rings. I've talked to you longer than to any of my friends.
With your words I'm seeing the world with much brighter eyes. You taught me how to be an optimistic person, how to aplogize and make someone happy in the best way possible.
You'll always be in my heart, in this special place where only the closest friends belong.
From this way forward I'm writing for you. Your stories inspired me to use my day dreaming for writing my own stories that will never be lost.
Thank you for a rainbow of memories you've been giving be for seventeen years.
R. I. P. Grandmother Ana
I love you granny and thank you again for opening my eyes.
Edited by Hunter Hawk