Personal Narrative My Great Grandfather - 1167 Words

Personal Narrative I looked down at my great grandfather, lying in the coffin, he had light gray hair and a round face. I was only six at the time, but I knew what was happening, he was gone. Tears flooded my eyes, forming rivers, rolling down my cheeks. I sat down on the chair, the only thing I heard was sobs from relatives. I tried not to think about what life would be like after the funeral without him. However, I just had to think of what this change would bring. How will this affect my everyday life? What kind of relationship will I get with my great grandmother? I never had a relationship with her like I did with him. My great grandfather was very fun to be around, I liked art, but I had never even thought about doing Acrylic†¦show more content†¦On the other hand, there was my great grandma Patricia, we didn’t have much of a relationship, well, we did, but just not like my great grandfather’s. She liked to watch westerns and those black and white movies. She didn’ t go fishing very much and we just didn’t have much in common. Well, about six months had passed and we were cleaning out my great grandma’s stuff to move in with my grandma. It was then I saw that she liked to paint, I liked art, but I never thought about painting, I liked drawing more than watercolors and I had never Acrylic painted before. We drove her home and then we started on adding on to grandma’s house. About a year after she moved in with my grandma. This was going to be a lot different. At school towards the end of sixth grade, we had a lady come and show all of the students about painting. I thought it was really cool and I wanted to do it, I asked my mom what kind of paint my great grandma used. She said she doesn’t know but thinks it was Acrylic paints. I got kind of excited, but I didn’t know how my great grandma would react. I told my grandma that I want to do it and I guess that she told great grandma because a few weeks later gre at grandma was all excited and asked when a good time to paint would be. About six months later, I went out to her paint shed with her and practiced with all of her stuff. She told be that to make the leafs on trees you tap, she told me that fluffy clouds should be all wispy and white, if they are gray,Show MoreRelatedSandra Cisneros And Reyna Grande’S Representation Of Their1220 Words   |  5 Pagesjourneys across material and ideological borders that do not recognize transnational identities. To begin, in the jigsaw autobiography A House of My Own (2015) Cisneros mediates between her experience of growing up in Chicago, excavating into her Mexican father’s family history, being perceived as a gringa in Mexico and as working class writer. 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