Just a Memory

           My grandpa is dead. On October 8th, 2004 at 7:42 (the time is a bit hazy because I was only 8 almost 9), my grandfather had started coughing continuously. After about five minutes he calmed down, my siblings, grandmother and I were worried. A few moments later, he started coughing again and I dropped the red pyrex pan to see if he was alright. What is most important to me about the pan is every time I was it, I remember that same moment and I remember the crack in the handle that I put there by dropping it. As I rounded the corner from the kitchen I saw my grandpa holding his chest and he had a look of pain on his face. After the look of pain on my grandpa’s face, he looked peaceful, it was almost relaxing to see his emotion because without that, I don’t think I would have been able to handle his death as well as I have. I was terrified and shocked. I didn’t know what was happening until my grandma yelled to my sister to call 911. After the police and ambulance were on the way we all gathered next to him and started praying. I didn’t pray again after he died, for anyone, or anything because I felt betrayed by one of the only powers

After the paramedics were there, my siblings and I were kicked out and sent to our friend’s houses. My brother and sister went to the managers house while I went to my best friend Jordan’s. I cried as I ran back to check on him and found him officially dead. When I saw him after he was dead, I didn’t know he was dead, I only thought he was sleeping. I couldn’t comprehend the fact that he was dead and even if I could I wouldn’t have wanted to believe it. (I was selfish at the time and I will readily admit that.) I remembered what he had said about not missing my birthday (which was 2 days away) and I started crying again. I spent the night at Jordan’s house and most of the next day. I didn’t sleep or eat anything and I played video games, trying to keep it off my mind. I remember not being hungry or thirsty, or even tired at all. It frustrated me and I was so mad but I didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t like I had someone to go walk with because the person who I always went with to the corner store was lying dead on a cold slab of metal someplace I didn’t even know. It was in the day of the 10 that I finally got to see him for the last time. I was at the crematorium for most of the day but I got to see him that day and that is what I was thankful for, though it was my birthday and it wasn’t the sort of gift I expected.

I believe it shaped my development as a person and sort of helped me through other events of my life. This event changed me in a way that I became more appreciative of life and also learned to cope with death better (for lack of better terms). My grandpa was always a quiet man, he never really talked and when he did he said little. I remember little of the man he was only because my memories of him were the same. It was almost everyday we had the same routine and it seemed to me that it was the perfect life. I was spoiled and he got me everything I wanted. We always stopped by this little candy store on the way to the post office to pick up my grandma and we’d all get something. It didn’t mean much at the time but the following days after he died. I missed what he did for us but I missed him so much more. I still do miss him and I wonder every day what could have happened if he were still alive. I wonder what we’d talk about and if we’d still go fishing. That’s only a thought, and he’s only been a memory since he died, but I like to remember him as he was, not a day older, not even a moment wiser and still as strong as he always used to be.