It is a beautiful day out on the spring of my eighth year. My siblings and I eat spoonfuls of ice-cream. It is early in the morning and we are already divulging in the treats my grandma sets aside for us. My Grandma left us inside with my grandpa; the great white shark. He tells corny old jokes that we all try our best to laugh at even though they aren't funny. My grandpa proceeds to recite lines of Shakespeare at the table and tells stories about his days in Vietnam. However I am not interested in hearing these stories about the war. Hes already told the same stories over and over again. Grandma usually yells at him but shes not inside at the moment. I venture outside to see what my grandma is doing. I find her in the backyard standing next to her flower garden. Outside the overwhelming scents of hyacinths, daffodils, tulips and roses drifts through the air My grandma is leaning over a fresh patch of freshly dug up earth. I watch her hands as she sprinkles the seeds into the soil. She pats the seeds into the dirt. She pats the seeds into the soil with tender and patient hands. A line of sweat drips down her forehead beneath her light blue visor. She grabs a rag from the back of her blue jeans and uses it to wipe away the sweat. She is wearing a plain white muscle shirt that clings to her skin from the heat. Her pale blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and tucker underneath the visor. As soon as she sees me standing behind the fence she stand up and calls out to me. She opens the gate because I'm not tall enough to open the latch on the other side. I follow her to patch of soil. This is the first time she has let me anywhere near her flowers. She tells me that she has a job that I can do if I feel like helping her out. She hands me a plastic garbage bag. She tells me I can pick up the pi cones. I'm so eager to help with anything because my grandma is so nice. She warns me that the pine cones are sticky from the sap. She finds me a pair of gloves that are oversized and don't fit my small hands. She does not want me to get my new clothes dirty from the sap. I tel her that she shouldn't worry, I wont make a mess. My grandma looks up at me for a moment; the sun hits against her bright blue eyes. I swear the sun beats down on her face but her smile is the brightest I have ever seen. It is only a moment yet it is engraved in my mind forever.

It is the summer of my fourteenth year now. I run outside with two bottles of water tightly grasped between my fingers. I open the gate with ease. I can reach the latch on the opposite side of the fence without having to stretch my arm too far. One bottle of water is for me when I need it. I wont drink my water until I have been outside for a little bit longer. The other is for my grandma who has been outside for the past few hours. I place my bottle of water on the table. I take her bottle of water over to her. We trade; she hands me a hand rake and gloves that almost fit and I hand her the bottle of water. It is just the two of us hunched over dirt in the sweltering heat. My grandma from taking out the weeds to sit. She sips the bottle water while I continue taking out weeds. After she is finished with her water she heads to the shed. She grabs a pair of clippers that are too large for me to use. I rake out weeds and she trims the bushes. I'm glad I'm helping my grandma with the gardening. I'm not interested in the fame of tag going on in the front yard. I keep an eye out for my grandma. She is diabetic so I worry about her blood sugar getting too high or too low. I also enjoy going out to the garden to learn about planting flowers/ I feel special because it is a secret that my grandma shares with me. The bond that we formed here many years ago has not changed. My grandma checks her watch. It is time for her to go inside to prepare dinner. I follow her inside. My grandma walks with her head held high; I swear she is the strongest women I know.

It is the fall of my eighteenth year. I have my first boyfriend and I have started going to college at a local university. I also started working full time for the work study program that they offer at the school;. I don't spend a lot of time in my grandmas house anymore. Tonight I head over with my father after a long day of school and work to make sure my grandma is feeling better. My grandma is very ill; her body is weak from wear and tear, and her hands are worn out and thin. The doctors say that she has brain cancer. My sister tells me that she is worried that my grandma will die. I am torn between telling her the truth and telling her a lie. So I tell he that for right now things are fine and that is all that matters. Even though she is ill my grandma persists that she wants to out to the garden I volunteer to take her outside. I guide my grandma down the stairs, across the driveway, to the gate. I open the latch without thinking. There aren't any flowers outside right now. My grandma says not to worry the flowers will bloom in the springtime. She says that flowers go away for the winter, but sometimes seeds drift into the wind and grow again. I know what my grandma wants me to do. I grab a pair of gloves from the shed, along with a hand rake and clippers. My grandma sits on the bench and watches. I spend about two hours outside with her clipping the bushes, raking out the weeds and picking up the pine cones that have fallen around the yard. It is time to go inside for supper that my father has cooked tonight. After the supper has been severed and the dessert has been placed out everyone gets ready for Sunday Night Gambling Night. It is a tradition that my great grandma Nancy Sicari started with her children'; a family tradition that has been followed ever since. I help my grandma play because she gets easily confused. It is wonderful being able to help out with my grandma. But I miss those of dread. days in the war, yet a cloud of sadness has filled the house and its memories. I want thee last moments I send with grandma to be happy.

It is a stormy night that I watch my grandma for the last time. There are six people crammed into my fathers small car; it is pouring out and there is a thrashing wind. My aunt Cindy has invited the entire family to come to the hospice because she thinks that it is the last night my grandma will live. The small hospice room is nothing like grandma house and it fills me with a feeling we spend a few hours in the hospice room discussing the past. That night my grandma passes away.

It is the day of my grandmas burial; the sun shines bright on the early morning dew. We are all gathered around each other. Each breath I take feels like a shard of glass. I know we are united in this pain. Somehow the family has become closer by the pain we share, even though I felt felt we we would fall apart. It is the bond anguish that holds the threads of our family together. I watch everyone grieve in their own way. I am numb, I choose not to feel. I stare at the coffin with numbness. I cannot believe that my grandma is dead. It is like some scene in a movie; we've reached the breaking point. I watch my aunts, my uncles, my family all talking about anything to get through the day. But most of all I watch my grandpa who sits quietly in a chair in front of the casket. I am suddenly reminded of my grandpas corny old jokes. I recall the moment I looked at my grandma and she wore the brightest smile I had ever seen. I place a rose on my grandmas grave and head home with my father.

There is a time when we all must feel sad, a time to live and a time when we must pass away into the night as if we never existed. But there will always be someone who we will never forget; even if the rest of the world forgets. My grandma was one of those people I chose to never forget. I walk around the old green house I spent most of my childhood living in. The fence has rusted with old age; in the shed there are a pair of guns my grandpa kept from his days in Vietnam. Toys are tossed around the yard from my childhood that have been passed down to the great grandchildren. But most of all I am captured by a small patch of untouched soil. I stare down and decide that this spring I will plant my own flower; so that it can grow as well.