Resiliency by Kelly

Resiliency by Kelly - December 2021 Scholarship Essay

When my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, she soon forgot who I was. I watched her struggle to enunciate the syllables which formed my name, and eventually forget them altogether. I felt helpless as I reached for her hand and watched her view me as a stranger, confused by my desire to comfort her. Yet, I understood that my grandmother was much more than this disease. She was the strongest leader that I had ever known, and this encounter would never change that.
As her memory continued to decline, we spent the months adapting my grandmother to her new life. We were determined to give her the best life possible even in these moments of doubt. Her doctor recommended that we spend more time with her during these vulnerable periods. He suggested that we continue to make her feel as normal as possible, as if nothing had changed. Most importantly, he advised us to take my grandmother to do the things that she had always wanted as there was not much time left. This guidance led us to the first rodeo of many.
We pulled up to the small town of Pilesgrove, New Jersey. This was an area that I had never journeyed to before, or even knew existed. My mind began to wander as I pictured the vicious bulls that would charge the men in the ring and the gentlemen cowboys with pieces of straw hanging from their mouths and spurs on their boots. Clearly, these thoughts expressed my slight naivety about rodeos. Still, my grandmother was more excited than she had been in months as she smelled the sweetness of the funnel cakes and felt her boots sink into the dirt beneath her.
As we sat in the bleachers, the sun set behind the announcer’s booth and suddenly everything felt right within the world. For the briefest moment, I had forgotten about my grandmother’s disease. It did not matter why we were there, it only mattered that we had made it. The sunset glistened upon my grandmother’s frail cheekbones, and I wallowed in the bliss of this moment for as long as my mind would allow. This lasted until the announcer welcomed us to the rodeo and dozens of horses entered the ring with glamorous women on their backs and the American flag flying high and steady behind them. I glanced over at my grandmother and saw her white teeth for the first time in a while as she joined in the chorus of the national anthem. This was where we found our happiness; it was where we were meant to be.
As we indulged in popcorn and hotdogs, we watched the competitors struggle to stay on the bulls for the coveted eight seconds. Through many failures, my grandmother cheered them on and reassured them from the stands that they were leaders; they were strong. It was in these moments that I discovered the true significance of my grandmother’s battle. My grandmother was not defined by her moments of weakness when she struggled to remember my name or the sequence of steps in tying her shoes. Rather, her true character was exemplified through the resilience she portrayed after this fragility. She was not meant to mourn this previous life when she was able to find so much delight within each new discovery that she made daily. My grandmother was the bull rider of our family. She was a leader; she was strong.
Thus, this night which was initially intended to be a completed task on my grandmother’s bucket list turned into much more than that. It transpired into a night that will remain in my mind and heart eternally. It was a night that allowed me to translate my fear and disappointment into confidence and admiration. This rodeo became the spot where my grandmother and I spent most of our Saturday nights in the summer months. We cherished these moments together and understood that just like these bull riders, my grandmother was struggling to hold on for as long as she could while she was desperately fighting her own battle.
In the years that followed my grandmother’s passing, this rodeo became a sanctuary for me. I came here on the nights that I felt helpless, and I found the inspiration to keep holding on in the arena’s lights. I visited again when I was high in spirits and needed a reminder of my grandmother and that bright white smile that she wore on those summer nights. Each time the glamorous cowgirls rode out on their horses and flew the American flag high, I heard my grandmother’s voice singing the national anthem and knew that she was sitting beside me. I knew that this was where I belonged. When I came to the rodeo, my grandmother’s memory was found in the wind that propelled through the flag and the buzzer that deemed the eight second rider the winner. She was the unyielding support and cheers within the crowds and the sunset that glistened upon my face. But more than that, she was the courage that pushed each rider to stand back up after getting knocked down. Accordingly, the rodeo gave me the everlasting certainty to proclaim that my grandmother was a leader; she was strong.