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. I am 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. 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
dont 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 a nervous
look on their faces with their focus being on only me but still I stay glued to my spot on the floor.
She lived 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
seem real. Somehow I felt that she was still here, somewhere working in her garden. Before I
knew it, I was on my way to Colorado to go to my Grandmothers funeral.
When we arrived at my grandmothers house it felt artificial, like it was a place from a
hazy dream. I walked into the house not seeming to recognize it at first; it took me a moment to
get reacquainted with this place that had long been lost. Little by little everything started to look
more familiar less like a dream and more like a place I had been long ago. 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
was 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.
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. 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 gazed at all them. I couldnt help but feel like I wish she had shown these
pictures to me 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 board of pictures and a family portrait. Her whole life stood in the form of wellorganized photos of her, her Husband, her kids and her only grandchildren my sisters 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
bereavement He looked as if he could not understand or simply could not believe she was
actually gone.
It was then I turned my attention to the front and saw a picture of her. 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. I sat there and wondered if anyone else was crying but once again I felt alone. I was
sniffling but managed 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 visited every summer until my
parents separated. After that 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 to. I remember not liking it but pretending to for her. I
remember her bedtime stories and late nights where the whole family 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. 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. However my sister being who she is 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. Thankfully he
didnt care how his older sisters felt. At this point I didnt want to be left alone.
I sat there and listened to 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 finally 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 she wanted it. I wanted to cherish and hold onto it as long as I could. It was the last piece
of her that she would ever leave behind, a representation of who she was and the life she had
lived. It was then 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. She slept with him every night he was that important to
her. It was then that I came across an old photo album a jolt of excitement reaching my heart. I
was eager to see more pictures.
As I searched through the photos I came across a note my sister and family right behind
me. It was a note from me from when I had to be about six years old. She had kept this note the
whole time after 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 grow 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 grandmas
house, 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. 1. No one cares how plump you get. 2. You get lots of hugs. 3. The older
you get the more valuable you become. Pondering that wisdom I said my goodbyes and got in
the car once again leaving a world I had once known and loved as the setting sun lite the sky.