Remembrance

Seventh grade. The Sunday before exams were to start. The night before had been
uneventful my best friend and I playing video games for the better part of the night. However, living just around the corner, he had left shortly after we were done, his parents wanting him home for the next morning. I slept soundly that night, with little interruption. I was hoping to God my parents were going to make breakfast, but that hope was futile. I came downstairs and found my Dad standing by the phone, looking like he had seen a ghost. Today was Mother's Day, so I thought maybe Grandma had said something to him he didn't like.
"Grandpa passed, son."

Like 9/11, that day is etched in my memory forever. My Dad had told me with a straight face, no emotion, like Marines tend to do. Me, on the other hand, my world came crashing down. I was young, in middle school, and ready to start exams the next week. I gave my Dad a great big bear hug, squeezing him as tight as I could as if I could use some of that energy to magically bring back his father. I sobbed like a little girl, not knowing what to feel, think or do, except to sit there with my Dad and cry. The one thing that stuck out in my memory the most was, I couldn't even go to my Grandpa's funeral because of my exams that week.

Monday morning, and I did my normal routine of getting ready for school, this time taking a little bit more time. Most things during that day were a blur, mostly getting on the bus and sitting amongst the stupidly happy students ready for exam week to be over with and start their summer break. My best friend, Clayton, sat next to me, wondering what was wrong. I told him, and he got wide-eyed and tried to be the good friend and offer consoling words. I said thanks but it really didn't help much. I hated doctors and modern medicine, because in my world, they had done little to nothing to help my Grandpa. I never wanted anything to do with hospitals or doctors, and to this day, they still make me uneasy.

One Thanksgiving, three years ago, I remembered visiting Grandpa in the hospital. I was too young to understand everything that was happening to him, but even being restricted to the bed, he moved to hug me as strong as my father did. The warm smile on his face and his inviting smile hid the pain he was suffering. Like my father, he wanted to show strength despite the cancer that was eating his life away as I saw him laying there. I wished I could have understood why this was happening to him, because to me, Grandpa had done nothing to deserve this.

My Grandpa was a great man, a loving father, and a good husband to my Grandma. Although I was very young when he died, his death became a stepping stone to my maturity. My Dad had been there for me the best way he knew how, but I am not one to hold back my emotions. I am vulnerable, human, and mortal, and most of all, I hurt like any other red-blooded human being.