I roll on my side and glance at the time 3:00. I feel like something is gone, something is missing. I hear the door down stairs opening and closing, but why. I hear my dads voice above all. I sense sadness. I don’t bother to get up but I lay there. I stare at the purple wall. It must of happened.
I remember just a week or two ago when we went to visit her. We are in a bright room with a dark feeling. She talks to my brother and I, she loved to see us. She knew it was not us who put her here in this place she hated to call home. She was one to hold grudges. I loved her though. I sit by her side and she asks me how school is and there is so much to say but all that could come out was one word. Good. I get up when the doctor comes in.
“It’s time for your lunch Audrey,” she says. My grandmother grunts and begs us to stay. But we can’t. As we walk out the door I look back at her. Something is wrong.
Now I realize that is the last time I would see her. The last time she would look back at us and we looked back at her until we were through the door. She is with my grandfather now, happier than she ever was here without him. She did not want to move her here to fair haven from there open fields in Vermont. She could have been happy here but she choose not to be. She was always in the mood for the attention.
My grandmother choose her own unhappiness, as many people do. Sometimes when something gets forced upon you and you can’t turn back, you choose to be unhappy when you could be optimistic. You choose to make a point. Like when you are a little kid and you get in a fight with your mom you run to your room, slam the door, and start to cry. The thing is at any point you could go downstairs and fix it but you keep crying to make it sure she knows your mad. I believe that you choose your own paths in life. You don’t get help and there is no turning back. You make your own choices and your own mistakes. You can’t blame other people for your own problems.
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