<p>Please leave me your feedback. Be as harsh as you'd like</p>
<p>One of the core values of Villanova, as an Augustinian university founded on the teachings of St. Augustine, is that student and faculty learn from each other. As you imagine yourself as a member of the Villanova community, what is one lesson that you have learned in your life that you will want to share with others? </p>
<pre><code>YOURE IN MY WAY! I CANT SEE THE TV, I screamed at the top of my lungs. It was at my grandmother as she walked through my line of sight with the television. I know it is wrong and disrespectful to scream at a lady but she had those quirks that never failed to irritate me. And I, at the time a young chap, thought that I could make it up to her later. Do not misinterpret me, I love my Dadima (Hindi for the grandmother from the fathers side), the name that I will always associate her with. It was just that being in her presence extensively, in my case all the time, got onto my last nerves.
At this time my entire family, which consisted of my brother, my parents, my grandmother and me, lived in a one bedroom apartment in Pennsylvania. Living in such a small environment had its flaws but worst of all, it had no privacy. No matter what, we spent every minute of every day in the presence of our entire family. That meant that every day when Dadima wanted to rehearse her prayers, I had to endure listening to them all of them ... every single day. That was just one of the quirks I hated, the others consist of persistent nagging to get work done or her stories on how a man should really act. Unfortunately, I deemed her stories to be unrealistic fables. I regret not benefitting from the years of experience she must have pooled into those fables.
My reality check came on the morning of May 13, 2008, when my parents informed me of the news. I was under the misleading impression that it was a regular school day; I took my shower and threw on some typical clothes and headed downstairs. To my surprise, I found my mom and dad sitting and discussing something important at the dinner table (this was atypical because my parents should have been at work by now). It didnt take me long to recognize something eerie about the situation. And that is when my parents broke the news to me; minutes before I had to leave the house. They did not give me the complete details, and never did I ask. But this is event changed me.
The following days were really hard for me. I could not help but feel guilty about the way I treated my own grandmother. In fact, I feel ashamed now, three years later, even thinking about it. Even though her stories and actions bothered me, it was her presence that I actually loved, missed. When my parents worked night and day to put food on the table, only dadima was left to take care of us. She was the motherly figure that I truly needed to complete me. If only I had expressed my love to her, if only I had listened to what she had to say maybe the guilt that resides in me now would be able to escape.
My grandmothers death made me realize the importance of life, and cherishing it with the people in it. The tragedy that we endured only made us conform as a family. Instead of stuffing our faces in front of the TV, we started to have meals as a family on the dining table. Instead of yelling at each other and fighting, my brother and I started to become responsible as we knew that we had to take care of each other. And my parents, instead of fighting at every instance, they started to support each other. Even at college, I plan on applying this moral; I will live life and cherish it with my friends because maybe, just maybe I will not see them after the four years.
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