- My Grandmother Essay in 100, 150, 250, 300, 400 Words for Students
Here we are sharing some beautiful essays on my grandmother in 100, 150, 250, 300, 400 words. These essays are very easy to learn for any students.
In This Blog We Will Discuss
My Grandmother: Short Essay (100 Words)
We are a big family living together. My grandma is the head of the family. She is the oldest person here. We love her. My grandmother name is Rabeya Khatun and she is 78 years old. In this age, she is still strong enough and can do so many own works. My grandma is a really good woman.
She wakes up early in the morning and starts her day with prayer. She encourages us to pray more and more. She is the busiest person in our family because she takes care of all of us. She loves to spend time in the kitchen. I love my grandmother a lot.
My Grandmother: Short Essay (150 Words)
My grandmother is the eldest member of our family. She has sacrificed a lot for this family. Now she deserves respect and love from us. We all grandchildren are a fan of her. She used to spend most of her time with us. The most interesting thing about my grandma is she shares lots of amazing stories.
Especially in the night, the stories of ghosts are really scary to us. But we love to hear these stories. She is almost 80 years old, but it’s not appropriate, because she doesn’t know her birth date. She has never celebrated her birthday. But at this age, she still can move properly like other young peoples.
She is such a strong and good mentality woman. She is a caring woman and takes care of the whole family. She is like a driver who operates a big bus. We love our grandma a lot.
My Grandmother: Essay (250 Words)
Introduction:
Grandparents really love, they love their grandchild’s a lot. Today I am going to sharing my experience with my own grandma. She is an amazing woman, I have ever seen in my entire life. We, whole family and cousins, love and respect her a lot. I think elderly people like her should be respected and loved by us. This will make the families better for them.
My Grandmother:
My grandmother’s name is Sunita Mehta; she is about 75 years old. She was a school teacher at a young age. My father and uncles used to share lots of stories about her. They share how she has sacrificed a lot in her life for this family. She was an absolutely hardworking woman, who was really committed to make this family a better place. When my grandfather was struggling with his job, she came out and helped him working as a teacher. Besides this, she has done so many things for the family.
What She Does:
She is a religious woman. Most of her time, she spend doing prayer and Puja . In her leisure time, she sat with us and share lots of stories. Her stories are really addictive and that’s made us a fan of her. At this age, she still goes to the kitchen and takes care of the cooking. She was an amazing cook.
Conclusion:
My mother and aunties love my grandma a lot. They respect her and help her in all of her works. We all cousins also try loving her. She is the most amazing woman in my life.
My Grandmother: Essay (300 Words)
Most of the family, there is the eldest member. In our family, we have gone our grandma as the eldest member. She is the leader and the guide for the whole family. Before doing anything, we ask her for permission. It’s all about love and respect for her. In her time, she has done so much sacrifice for the family. Today I am going to share my experience with grandma.
The name of my grandma is Nazma Ahmed. She is about 70 years old and she is still can walk, and move properly. She is an interesting character. She is very talkative and loves to share stories with us. I and my cousins are really curious about spending time with her.
Her Daily Routine:
She wakes up early in the morning and starts her day with Morning Prayer. She is a very religious person. She encourages the whole family to pray more and more. In her this age, she still goes to the kitchen just to take care of the cooking situation. She was an amazing cook in her time. She takes her bath at 1 PM, before the noon prayer. In the afternoon, she sat with all of us and teaches us some time. She doesn’t have any major health issues yet.
How Much I Love Her:
I love her a lot. She is like my best friend. From childhood , I am spending most of my time with her. Not only, there a couple of cousins are we raising together and spending time together with her. She always loves us a lot. Even the whole family loves her.
She is the most senior person in our family and we respect her for this. She has done so many things to make this family better for us.
My Grandmother: Essay (400 Words)
Grandparents are the eldest member in every family. My grandfather is no more, but there is my grandma who is fulfilling the blank space of grandpa. Today I am going to share my love and feeling about my grandma. She is such an amazing woman I have ever seen in my entire life.
My grandma:
Her name is Ruksana Ahmed, and she is 74 years old. In this age, she is still strong enough. She can walk, and do a few little works too. At this stage of life, she still takes care of the whole family. As usual, she is the most important person in the family. Everyone values her decision and ask her before doing anything major. She is a religious woman. Most of her time, she used to spend praying. She teaches us the holy book Quran. In the time, when I was a kid, she used to teach me and a few of my cousins together. Now she doesn’t have good eyesight, but she still can read with her glasses.
Her life in a few words:
My grandma had a colorful life. My father and uncles have shared lots of stories of her. Her marriage with my grandpa has arranged so big and awesome celebration. She was the most beautiful girl in the area. Grandpa falls in love and asks her father to marry her.
Both families agreed and they got married. The most touching part of her life is, they faced some financial problems as a family. She started working as a part-time school teacher. She was really hardworking. That was really tough to maintain the whole family, lots of household works after doing teaching in the school.
But she did these successfully. Her hard work pays off and she was able to create a better place for the next generation. We love her a lot. She was a true fighter.
I and my cousins best friend:
She is my best friend. Not only I, but there also are lots of my cousins who used to spend most of the times with her. She loves us too. She never refuses us in anything. She always loves to tell us stories and teach us small lessons. She is very friendly.
After all, the whole family loves her. She has lots of contributions to this family. That’s why they never let her be down. Everyone respects her as like deities. I love my grandmother a lot too.
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Home — Essay Samples — Life — Grandmother — Someone Who Has Made an Impact on My Life: My Grandmother
Someone Who Has Made an Impact on My Life: My Grandmother
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Published: Sep 1, 2023
Words: 622 | Page: 1 | 4 min read
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Unconditional love and selflessness, guidance and wisdom, resilience and perseverance, continued influence and legacy.
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Successful and Unsuccessful Aging: My Grandmother’ Story Essay
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Introduction
The older adult who is described in this assignment is my grandmother. She had a significant impact on my life, both in childhood and as I grew up. Although she died from lung cancer some years ago, she is still an example for me in many life situations.
I believe that my grandmother can be considered a symbol of “successful aging” in many ways. First of all, her behavior did not change to worse, which is typical of many older adults. She was lucky not to develop any mental diseases and preserved a clear mind until it was damaged by metastases in the brain. She was a lady for as long as I remember her and maintained the lady’s habits till the end of her days. She was never rude or harsh with people and was an example of decent behavior.
Secondly, her attitudes to life are worth mentioning. My grandmother believed that happiness and success in life depended on attitudes and that being positive is the right choice. I adored the way she handled problems. In fact, she tried to present any problem as a small misunderstanding. For example, when she was diagnosed with cancer, she did not give up the way many people do. She did not look doomed and behaved as if her treatment was a challenge or a game.
Thirdly, her peer relationships can be an example to follow. My grandmother was a leader, and people could follow her. She was ahead of the community center after she retired because she could not stay at home doing anything. They had a big volunteer project at the community center and helped elderly and disabled community members or those experiencing difficult times. She had many friends and acquaintances and was constantly on the move.
However, the aspect I can assess best of all is her family relationships. Despite her active social life, she always had enough time for the family and was our keeper of traditions. She was not only a grandmother but a good friend for me because we were very close and could share many secrets. When the cancer was diagnosed, she was afraid of being helpless and becoming a burden on her family. Still, each of us was eager to visit her at the hospital or help at home not because of the feeling of duty, but due to a desire to be useful for a close person.
My grandmother’s health habits almost did not change during her lifetime. She preferred traditional evidence-based medicine, took care of herself, and had regular examinations. She was doing her daily morning exercises for as long as I can remember. At weekends, we sometimes took long walks to the park. She believed that activity and movement are a contribution to health.
Finally, as for the sources of meaning in her life, I would mention the following. The major source of meaning in life for my grandmother was her family. She was attentive and caring with all of us. She valued every moment spent with her family, both close and distant relatives. Also, I can say that another source of meaning for her was life itself. She loved life and considered it to be one of the most significant values.
Nevertheless, there was an aspect in my grandmother’s life, which does not symbolize “successful aging.” The only age-related problem she had was hypertension, which developed despite her attention to health and regular examinations. Immediately after it was diagnosed, hypertension interfered with her usual activities and had a negative impact on the quality of life as a whole because my grandmother could not do the usual things as quickly as she did before. Still, the effective treatment plan helped her return to habits and the disease did not influence her much in the following years,
The experiences with my grandmother have an impact on my work with older adult clients. First of all, my attitudes to older adult clients are positive due to my grandmother. I realize that aging is not an easy process for a person both physically and psychologically because my grandmother shared her feelings related to changes occurring with her. The major objective of my work is to provide the best possible help for everyone. This principle was also formed under the influence of my grandmother. She was always eager to help, and I grew up with the belief that helping and doing one’s best are normal behaviors. Finally, my expectations regarding working with older adults were formed under the influence of my grandmother and her friends. However, this impact is sometimes negative because I expect my patients to stay positive and active as my grandmother did, and many older adults are not positive about aging and age-related health changes. Still, these experiences provide me with many examples from my grandmother’s life, which I can share with my patients. I should say that this sharing frequently helps to shift people’s negative attitudes and stimulate the adequate perception of aging in older adults.
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IvyPanda . 2021. "Successful and Unsuccessful Aging: My Grandmother' Story." May 14, 2021. https://ivypanda.com/essays/successful-and-unsuccessful-aging-my-grandmother-story/.
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My Grandmother, Too
Before we were old enough to go to school, my brother and I stayed with our grandmother each day while my parents worked, and each morning when we arrived there was oatmeal topped with melting pats of butter awaiting us. She gave us free rein to run wild, to indulge our sense of play. She and my grandfather lived just down the street from my parents’ house, and there were times growing up I would run to her first if my knees were skinned or my heart broken.
Despite her general sweetness, she contained a pronounced streak of unruliness. From her I learned that it’s okay not to be well behaved all the time. When I was thirteen I found a pack of cigarettes stashed in her purse while exploring in the back of her closet, and she caught me staring at them, my eyes brimming with curiosity. “Bring them here,” she said. She took me to the glider on the front porch, lit one, and handed it to me. “Go on.” She lit one for herself and took a deep drag. We sat there together in silence, smoking. I never found cigarettes in the house again.
In the South of my childhood it was customary to spank, and my grandmother saw no reason to be an exception to this rule. There was a large bush in her backyard, and whenever my brother and I committed a misdeed that warranted a spanking, she took us out there to choose our switch. She heightened the psychological drama by insisting there were invisible, biting bugs covering the branches. After we carefully picked the twig we thought would do the least harm, she cut it off and we ran into the house as fast as we could to hide. She normally found us cowering under the covers of the bed, half terrified and half giggling, and proceeded to whack the covers dramatically until remorse set in. It never hurt of course.
Her sense of justice was clear and easy to grasp: never start a fight, never instigate a wrong—but if a wrong were done to you, you’d better retaliate. The first time she met the man who became my husband she pointed her shrunken, 77-year-old finger toward his face and threatened, “If you hurt my granddaughter, I’ll whoop you.” He had no doubt she would at least try. This code was so ingrained a feature of my grandmother’s character that even today her children and grandchildren regale themselves with accounts of her inflexible enforcement of it. There is one story she told to us again and again.
But the older women couldn’t always be around, and the mill was dangerous. People got hurt, bled. The noise of the machines was deafening, and the air was dense with fiber and dust. The work was monotonous—endlessly hypnotic repetitions of the same task. To forestall tedium, she regularly asked to be swapped around from one job to another. To hear my grandmother tell it, she had everyone there wrapped around her finger, especially her bosses, all of them men, of course.
One day she was stationed beside a man she didn’t know. He was probably in his forties, as she recalled it later. It started out with him occasionally bumping into her but as the days went on progressed into what she referred to as “getting fresh.” She never told us particulars, but it’s clear he was grabbing and touching her in ways that were unwelcome. Though she would never have used the term, she was enduring repeated sexual harassment by a man decades her senior. I don’t know exactly why she never told her bosses or the women she worked with, but I suspect she was afraid. Maybe they’d think she was inviting it somehow.
As this went on, my grandmother grew increasingly infuriated and her sense of justice was galvanized. She made a plan. There were sharp knitting needles all around the mill, and she put one in the pocket of her smock. Whenever she told the next part of the story, her face would beam with pride. “I saw him coming close to grab me, and I took hold of the needle in my hand so the sharp end was pointing out.” As she spoke, she held her hand out as if still dangerously armed. “And I stabbed him…just a little.”
She took great delight in recounting how loudly the man screamed and how high he jumped. He ran to the boss’s office yelling, “She stabbed me!” My grandmother ran in behind him. It was an accident, she sobbed, they just collided—he stabbed himself! The commotion caught everyone’s attention, and the older women came rushing to my grandmother’s defense. Of course she didn’t stab him, they protested; she’s just a child. Nobody spoke what all must have suspected, that the man had been taking liberties with my grandmother’s body. The boss told her to be more careful and sent her back to the floor. The man didn’t lose his job, of course. What is more surprising is that my grandmother didn’t lose hers either. The situation was made to blow over—but just maybe the man thought twice before forcefully touching another woman. At least I tell myself he did.
My grandmother was proud of the justice she served, and the story quickly became a part of her repertoire. But in these repetitions she never treated it as a story of sexual assault so much as an example of her pert insistence on just reprisals. I simply don’t think she had the vocabulary we now possess to express what exactly had happened to her. I’m bothered that I only recently came to see the truth of this story. How terrified and powerless she must have felt to take matters into her own hands, a girl of sixteen against a man older than her father.
Many years later, when she was in her eighties, she had a heart attack during dinner while sitting across the table from me. I rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital and stayed with her all that night, sleeping on the foldout chair beside her bed. What I remember most was how adamant she was that only women see her undressed, help her use the bathroom or shower. She didn’t even want a man to bring her a bedpan. This was a woman mortified by the idea of a strange man so much as seeing her body against her will. She stabbed not out of feistiness but fear.
She forgot so much in the confusion of her final years as she succumbed gradually to dementia. By the end she was living in the world of her childhood, surrounded by her siblings and parents, who all had died before her. But she never forgot gouging that man with the knitting needle, never stopped recounting that story. I don’t think it was a memory steeped in pain but rather remained a way for her to articulate that although she was small, frail, and her mind blunted, she was still someone to be reckoned with.
Sexual harassment is a legacy of aggression inherited by one generation of women after another, and we have far too often had to extract justice on our own or simply go without. Even if I’ve never been able to achieve my grandmother’s brand of recompense against those whose hands have violated me, I am inspired by her now to raise not a knitting needle but a pen and say “me too.”
–Stephanie McCarter writes and teaches in Sewanee, Tennessee. Her essays have also appeared in Literary Hub , The Millions , and Eidolon .
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Home / Essay Samples / Life / Grandmother / The Main Lessons I Have Learned From My Grandmother
The Main Lessons I Have Learned From My Grandmother
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