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Shaylah Davis
Mrs. Pillow
English 9, Period 1
1 February 2017
Making Lemonade

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. It’s a rather common phrase, meaning

even when you encounter something bitter and sour, if used correctly it can become sweet and

refreshing. Yet many find it’s hard to believe such an obstacle can result in anything positive.

This often creates an overwhelming feeling of despair for not only themselves, but those who

care for them. However, I’m proud to say Sheliah Terry, my grandmother, wasn’t one of those

people. Even while facing cancer, losing her ability to speak or walk and becoming completely

reliant on her husband to move, her smile never wavered. Even while her main source of hope

was silent prayers called out by every member of our church and family, being surrounded by

what should have shattered her spirit, her attitude never faltered. Alas, she did not make it. I had

witnessed this all at the young age of six, possibly missing the moments where hope had been

lost, but I feel as if the ultimate goal was to leave me with the positive memories I have now.

And by doing this, my grandmother has affected me in ways she may have never known, by

showing me that optimism and character can shine through even the darkest of times.

Yet I hadn’t always interpreted her battle in this way. In fact, even when I first heard she

was ill, I was already scared and prepared for the worst. Again, I was very young, so fear was

nothing other than normal, but I also remember sobbing, feeling as if I had already lost her, even

when she was there. At this young age, I was expecting the heart wrenching loss of my

grandmother. All I knew was I may only have six years, six muddled, hardly memorable years.
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But through it all, through chemo, through losing control of her muscles and her ability to speak,

she offered a smile, she became as animated as possible around her grandchildren. Still, that

wasn’t what I paid attention to during this time. I was more concerned with how sickly she had

gotten and how sparse her hair had become. Revealing that I practically blocked out most

positive things around me. I didn’t even try look for hope, I simply abandoned it. However, I do

remember praying for my grandmother, being filled with a new hope just once after visiting her

in the hospital when she did one simple thing to show her character and make the family laugh.

All she had done was teasingly glare at my grandfather, then turn the other way and smile when

he asked for some of her pudding, but the feeling of ease it created amongst my family remains

of reminiscence. Even hearing a one member say something along the lines of “She’s still acting

just like herself through all of this.” It was brief, yet bliss, so I held onto that memory. Sadly, my

hope began deteriorating once again, and still, I only thought of the worst. Hearing that my

grandmother had fallen while trying to get out of bed because she couldn’t properly use her legs

banished the glimpse of hope her smile had created. Unlike her, I was easily deflated. I didn’t

think that maybe she was fed up with being reliant. Maybe she was just tired of sitting and doing

nothing. Maybe she wanted to try it. Seeing her left me heartbroken and I always wished I could

have a real conversation with her. And although my outlook was negative, no amount of

expectancy could prepare me for when she lost her life.

My grandmother passed away in her sleep at age 57, and it took many years for me to

realize how strong she had been. I remember when my mother told me about it and I began

bawling. Mainly running down the hall to the back room where my bed was, then my family

comforting not only me, but also each other, repeating that she was in a better place. Although I
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believed it inevitable, it did nothing to lessen my grief. I kept thinking about how I just wanted

one more day with her, just one more. Showing that I hadn’t spent enough time with her while

she was sick, and I still regret that. Because although she couldn’t speak, she could listen, she

could smile. And as time went on, I held onto many of the things she had given me, making me

very possessive over items I hadn’t really needed. I would sometimes go into my mother’s room

in tears because I missed her, and I looking on the positive side of things became very difficult.

But as I grew older, a friend of mine asked me how to cope with rough time, and I found myself

using my grandmother as an example. This was when I finally began to realize how much effort

my grandmother had put into keeping a positive attitude, so I asked myself: If she could fight

cancer with a ever-present smile on her face, why wouldn’t I be able to get over the small

obstacles I have at such a young age?

After acknowledging my grandmother's strength through hardships, I began to handle

barriers the same way she had. Sometimes I use humor, shift my point of view, or even cheer up

someone who looks like they need it more than me, but somehow, I push through. At first, I

found this to be rather difficult, such as my parents divorcing when I was about ten years old, yet

I still managed. Once my mother and father told me, my reaction was normal, I weeped and

longed for my father to stay. But automatically labeling my family as broken was not my first

thought as it would have been before, because my grandmother had not automatically labeled

herself as hopeless when she was first diagnosed. In fact, my mother told me that she said,

¨Cancer’s gonna have to drag me down fighting.” So, I reminded myself that I would still see my

dad despite the divorce, he would still be apart of my life. And that’s exactly what happened.

Later, it became apparent that bad news hardly phased me. I was finally able to give away many
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of the things I didn’t need and held onto simply because my grandmother gave it to me. Not that

something tragic didn’t affect me, but after being sad for a moment, I saw no reason to stay

dejected. My grandmother was looking death straight in the eye, but it was clear she thought the

same way. It’s as if she was telling herself that if she must only spend a short amount of time in

her life, the last few months would not be full of self-pity or sorrow. She didn’t wallow, because

it was a waste of time. She didn’t whine, because that would bring her nothing but darker

thoughts, and her spirit was too bright. In other words, my problems were small and

insignificant compared to what she went through, but I still think of her fight in order to

overcome difficulties.

My grandmother was a very determined, strong-willed individual that taught me a to

never let hope drift away. As I grow older, I never want to forget when she swiped the pudding

out of her husband’s reach, I never want to forget her smile that blinded us from the cloud of

dispirit hanging over our family. Her memory will always push me forward because the love for

her family was so prominent, it’s rather difficult to not want to be like her. She taught me how to

take the lemons life gave me, and make lemonade. She taught me that you couldn’t just squeeze

the lemons, and wait for a result, you have to add sugar, water, you have to add hope and joy.
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98/100

Beautifully written and descriptive. Such a powerful lesson at a young age.