“He’s just on vacation right? He’s still coming back?” I cry as I hold on to my mothers torso.

“Sweety”,my mothers voice replies,”Grandpa went up to heaven.”

I refused to believe her. I was only five at the time. It was the first death I remember to this day.

I wasn’t ready to face the truth.

When we got home I made a list of things to do with my grandpa. We would play monopoly,

tell stories, color, the works! When I was done, I showed the list to my mom. She read it and

burst into tears. I sat down and was confused why she was crying. I got all quiet and started

crying as well.

It had been a month since my grandpa died. I still hadn’t realized that he was gone. I started

wondering where he was, and then one night in bed I was thinking. Why was everyone

crying all the time? He was just on vacation! ……wait a minute. He was on vacation right?

but why wasn’t he back? Where is he? He can’t be……d-d-d-dead! Please no! Then it hit me,

and it hit me hard. He died. I didn’t cry at his party like everyone else! I wouldnt stop crying for hours.

Then finally I fell asleep and dreamt of death.

The next day I didn’t cry at all, but I was really sad. I didn’t talk at all. My mom realized that I had

finally found that my Granpa died. She thought it was best to leave me alone to grieve.

Today I wish my Grandfather was still on this earth. I want to smell his warm woody smell. Sit on his lap and cuddle up to him.

I missed those experiences, I wish I could see him smile one more time.