Injustice essays

Injustice essays Injustice comes in many forms. Some are blatantly obvious. Others, well others are somewhat subtle. They approach with the caution of a cat stalking a bird, waiting for the exact moment when all else around but the two fade into obscurity. Precisely at this moment, when all is right with the world for one, all is lost for the same. As I sat alone on the edge of the pew, I realized I wasn't. There, all around me were family, friends, and several people of whom I had only heard. Until that moment, I was frozen. Fixated on the flowers that lay on the coffin. Everything else in the world was gone. All the times he fell asleep in his chair, when I would hold his nose to make him wake up. All the baseball games we watched together. The trip to Yankee Stadium in his later years, the only time I ever saw him cry. All the times we went to the grocery store and I came back with nothing but candy. The hours we would walk the halls together when he couldn't sleep. Even the recent late nights when he was tied to a hospital bed, begging me to undo the straps so he could go home. I knew all of this. But for one brief moment, I didn't. My grandfather and grandmother had a strong relationship. He loved her and she loved him. Nothing was ever seriously wrong. They fought, as did all couples, but it never lasted long. Things were always resolved within a small amount of time. Usually due to the fact that my grandfather would admit wrongdoing and accept whatever blame and consequence that arose. She was not perfect. He wasn't either. But together, they worked. As I look back on the two of them, I can't help but ponder the reason they worked. They were not exactly alike. He was a carpenter. She at one time went to school to become a nurse. He would work long hours at the plant. She would attend social events in the neighborhood. He was never content to sit down for long. She would sit and watch game shows all day. He made a good living f ...