I haven't written my first paragraph yet , pleasetell me if i need any corrections with the below writing .. thanks a bunch
As my mum came closer to hug me with her sorrowful smile and flooding eyes, I could do nothing but refuse to accept reality. After all, my grandpa was my hero; ultimate hero . I remember being wrapped in his arms, where one would magically drift into an unknown, faraway land, where storms didn't exist. Suddenly every memory flooded in. I remember him sprouting existence out of dying ground and rescuing cats from tall standing trees. How could he be dying; giving up?
I remember lying on his arms, in the midst of night, where maharajas and fairies and princess would come alive, telling me their tales. Escaping his mouth would be words of hope covered up in enchanting chronicles. I would be flying through the air, free as a bird or trapped by the evil stepmother inside the house. I would find myself in places where no one would experience death, not in a million years; living happily ever after was all the endings ever ended with. Little did I know ... We lived on planet Earth.
As time gradually exceeded, it forced me to grip the idea of Grandpa dying. Mum was always red eyed in the morning. Visiting relatives would fake smiles in the hospital room . Days became dull and duller each day, passing slowly; uncomfortably. If Grandpa knew what was happening these days, he would come alive, because frankly, he wasn't the man to see anyone suffer. Yet he refused to open his eyes. He was becoming lifeless.
The last time I saw him, his eyes were loosely shut, shaking a little. Everything was visible under his pale, transparent skin and no trace of smile was evident on his lips. His hands didn't radiate that soothing heat they once did and his strong arms didn't look steady at all. And then he let go.
As my mum came closer to hug me with her sorrowful smile and flooding eyes, I could do nothing but refuse to accept reality. After all, my grandpa was my hero; ultimate hero . I remember being wrapped in his arms, where one would magically drift into an unknown, faraway land, where storms didn't exist. Suddenly every memory flooded in. I remember him sprouting existence out of dying ground and rescuing cats from tall standing trees. How could he be dying; giving up?
I remember lying on his arms, in the midst of night, where maharajas and fairies and princess would come alive, telling me their tales. Escaping his mouth would be words of hope covered up in enchanting chronicles. I would be flying through the air, free as a bird or trapped by the evil stepmother inside the house. I would find myself in places where no one would experience death, not in a million years; living happily ever after was all the endings ever ended with. Little did I know ... We lived on planet Earth.
As time gradually exceeded, it forced me to grip the idea of Grandpa dying. Mum was always red eyed in the morning. Visiting relatives would fake smiles in the hospital room . Days became dull and duller each day, passing slowly; uncomfortably. If Grandpa knew what was happening these days, he would come alive, because frankly, he wasn't the man to see anyone suffer. Yet he refused to open his eyes. He was becoming lifeless.
The last time I saw him, his eyes were loosely shut, shaking a little. Everything was visible under his pale, transparent skin and no trace of smile was evident on his lips. His hands didn't radiate that soothing heat they once did and his strong arms didn't look steady at all. And then he let go.