February 3rd 2016

Aleyah Casias
English 1101

Hughes

Not Really a Photograph.

I try my best to see the note through blurry eyes blinded by tears. Im usually more
guarded when it comes to letting others see how I really feel, especially when it is such an
immense amount of an emotion, such as crying but that really doesnt seem to stop me now. As I
sit in my grandmothers house for what will most likely be the last time, I hold an old note that I
didnt even remember writing in an old photo album that belonged to my grandmother,
surrounded by my cousin and my sister. I dont like how they are looking at me with their
shocked, nervous and concerned faces focusing only on me but still I stay glued to my spot on
the floor.
She lives in Colorado and I havent seen her in four years, not because we dont get along
but simply because she lives in a different state. It was strange she seemed so far away and
wasnt a part of my everyday life. When the news of her passing finally reached me, it didnt
seemed real; somehow I felt that she was still here, working in her garden. Before I knew it, I
was on my way to Colorado to visit my grandma at her funeral.
When we arrived at my grandmothers house it felt artificial, like it was a place from a
distant and hazy dream. I walked into the house not seeming to recognize it at first, it took me a
moment to get reacquainted with the pieces she always had. Little by little everything started to
look more familiar less like a dream and more like a place I had been long ago but soon even that
feeling started to fade away. I wanted so badly for her come to the door to greet us, welcoming
us into her warm home. Every memory of her in her house came flooding back to at once. I
could see her in every part of the house as if I had just seen her yesterday. She wasnt there. That

is when it hurt, reality struck me harder knowing she gone. This is the place where she had
existed in the confines of these walls she had dwelled she was real in this place but yet she was
not here. I no longer felt the warmth of her house; it was now strange, empty, incomplete and
distant.
We didnt stay at my grandmas house my dads sisters where already staying there so we
ended up staying at my uncles house looking back I am really glad we did. We spent the days
with my uncle and it seemed like we were just visiting and having a good time which makes the
memories of that time not as bitter and dismal but it was time to once again acknowledge the true
reason why we in fact had come. We went back to my grandmothers house and saw all her
pictures spread across the table; I take a glance over all them. I couldnt help but feel like I wish
she had shown these pictures to me before so she could tell me all about them or better yet I wish
she was still there to tell me about them now. It is strange how you could sum up a whole
persons live with just a two bulletin boards of pictures and a family portrait. Her whole life stood
in the form of well-organized and wonderfully put together photos of her, her Husband, her kids
and her only grandchildren my sister and I.
I was surprised how well everyone was handling this no one openly cried or was in
mourning. Everyone seemed to accept the fact that yes people do die. As the time came closer to
the actual funeral I tried to keep my composure like everyone else. The first three rows were
reserved for family only I didnt know where to sit. I thought I would sit in the front with my dad
but he along with all his other siblings sat in the second row while I felt abandoned in the first
row. I sat next to my Grandmothers brother whose face I could still see. His face a display of
misery, anguish and loss as if he could not understand or could not believe she was actually
gone.

It was then I turned my attention to the front and saw a picture of her was put in the front
with a margarita glass in hand and a big smile on her face a picture she had undoubtingly taken
when she went on a cruise with my dad. I started to cry but I tried to stay quiet and wondered if
anyone else was crying but once again I felt alone. I was sniffling but manage to keep quiet with
no tissues in sight. I thought about all the memories I had with her. Once upon a time she was a
big part of my life back when we were still a family. We used to live in Colorado until I was six
and after that we practically visited every summer until my parents separated and I started to see
even less of my father partly by circumstance and partly by choice and along with that went
without seeing my Grandmother.
She was my childhood. She once put zucchini in her spaghetti fresh from her garden I
remember trying it because she wanted me too and I remember not liking it but pretending to for
her. I remember her bedtime stories and late nights where all my dad and the whole family his
siblings and my Grandmas sister and her kids would stay up and play games like scrabble or
cards. I remember long admiring her doll collection she keep so neat and clean. She had so many
little things in her house that made it look partly like a well-organized museum. My dad would
make fun of her so much calling her Hitler because of her German roots she would go to slap
him while making an over exaggerated feeble grunt. Her house is without a doubt the place
where I remember most of my life as a child beside her place the memories of my childhood
seem to fade into nonexistence.
The funeral was over and I had finally thought that I had finished all my crying then and
there but as we were about to leave with only a few days left discussions started to take place
about what to do with everything she owned, her car and house. The trip had started to feel less
like a trip and more a somber occasion. My dad and his siblings had planned a dinner so they

could discuss what was to be done about her possessions. My Aunts had not wanted us to come
along saying it was only a discussion meant to be had between her children and not get intruded
in on by her only Grandchildren but my sister as always was persistent as soon as she knew they
were going somewhere nice to eat saw no reason why we could not come along. As we were
with our uncle as easygoing as he is saw no problem with it and didnt care how his older sisters
felt. At this point it wasnt so much of the food that made we want to go as the fact I didnt want
to be left alone.
I sat there and listened them as they discussed who would get the car and what to do with
the house. I sat there and realized they were all they had left in the world. They no longer had
any parents to help them out or to call and ask for advice. They had no one else in the whole
entire world looking out for them except the people that were sitting around the table next to
them. It was a profound revelation of mine one that still haunts me to this day. Every time I think
about this moment in my life I value my mother a little more, hate my father a little less and love,
appreciate as well as tolerate my siblings even more. The dinner came to a close and talks about
them selling the house moved me to believe this was the last time I would ever be in my
grandmothers house again. The essence and lingering memories of her would be gone along
with all the things she once loved.
It was time to say goodbye not just to family but to the place she once called home. That
was when my Aunt told me take whatever you want with you it would be less to get rid of or sell.
I waited till the night before we left to even start to think about what I wanted to take with me. It
felt wrong to rummage through her belongs without her being here. I felt that at any moment she
would jump out and scold me for rifling through her personal things. I wanted the house to stay
as is as it was the last memory of her and I wanted to cherish and hold onto it as long as I could.

It was the way she wanted it and I wanted it to stay that way it was a piece of her a representation
of who she was the last part of her that she had left behind to her kids and to us. It was when I
started to look around the house when I began to feel the uneasy feeling of robbing my
grandmother as if I was a tomb raider taking the life possessions of someone long dead and long
forgotten.
I worked hard to find the white horse that made galloping sounds when you shook him. I
used to make him run around the house for hours on end and all you would hear is the clink,
Clink, Clink of his hooves. I found Goldie the stuffed dog my grandma kept with her at all times
that she would let me play with it was my favorite and it was her favorite as well. I found it on
her bed when I first came in the house. It was then that I came across an old photo album a jolt of
excitement studding my heart I was eager to see more pictures.
It was then I came across a note my sister and family right behind me a note from me
from when I had to be about six years old. She had kept this note the whole time all these years
despite the distance and the years spent apart. The note read in messy and mismatched letters I
love you Grandma Betty I am sorry that your husband died I love you very much from Aleyah to
Grandma Betty. My Aunt said Aww she kept it the whole time. That is so cute. It was then
that I found myself crying nonstop unable to hide or keep myself composed. Everyone was
staring at me surprised that I could not keep myself from being so exposed. I had nowhere to
hide nowhere to run.
I had not seen her in four years and a part of me will always wish it hadnt been that way.
One never knows how much time you have with someone but you are always going to wish you
had more time with the ones you love as I grew older and my parents and my other Grandparents
do the same I will always keep this in mind. I took one last look at my grandma house and the

way she had left it with me I took my memories and a sign that listed three reasons I want to be a
teddy bear. I said my goodbyes and got in the car and once again we were on the road as the
setting sun lite the sky.