The Matriarch - The $1000 Scholarship Mirta Penelas Essay
January 9, 2016
Hello everyone! This is an essay I wrote to get a scholarship in my college years and wanted to share it with you, so that you can use it as a guide, and relieve some of the anxiety that comes with writing essays! Once I submitted this essay: I was notified that I had been the winner of the award before the semester began, and the 1000 dollars were automatically deposited in my account.
The Matriarch
Whenever I am demanding, they usually call me “Zulma’i”. My grandmother’s name was Zulma, and the apostrophe with the letter “i”, is the diminutive of Zulma in Guarani. Guarani is the language of the Natives from the country I come from: Paraguay. In other words, they call me “The Mini Zulma”. My grandmother was the matriarch of my family: sweet, but a very strict person.
She was a well known politician who was in charge of the Education Department. She would take care of the needs of all her children, brothers, grandchildren, friends, even neighbors. After she was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 56, the tables turned, and she had to let us take care of her: something impossible for her to accept. I don’t think anyone could get used to watching her become weak, and the Zulma who would drive around the city helping schools and teachers, was no longer able to walk outside her own bedroom by herself.
She started to wear a wig because of the complete hair loss that chemotherapy brought her. I was 14 years old at the time, and I recall one night that I will regret forever. We were at a dinner party full of senators and other politicians, and I went to hug my grandmother as soon as I arrived. I saw her with a different wig, so I screamed how beautiful the new one looked! Not knowing that this was some degree of humiliation to her, and that only our family members knew about her wig, or even her disease.
Treatment stopped, it was no longer an option because they discovered it too late. My parents wouldn’t let me see her the week before she passed away, because her body was starting to deteriorate fast. I never saw the ugly side with my eyes, but I experienced the sadness in my father’s eyes and my own. I never got to say goodbye, but I know I hugged and kissed her a lot, just not enough. Today, they say I am just like her and they call me by her name. I just hope I can live up to that name and help as many people as she did in this life.
Comments