It was around the time when I was just a mere seven years old. Times were great. I had an extraordinary second grade teacher and many friends. Every day was a new day for playing with my peers at school and going on adventures at home with my sisters. Life was near perfect until January came around.

My grandma had to get surgery, so my mom had to leave. I hated when either of my parents left. The house always felt lonely without both of my parents there to protect and love me. Unfortunately, I had no choice and my mom went on to New York. I missed her dearly and my dad, sisters, and I called her every night to talk to her. I always got to say that I loved her and missed her every night on the phone. For some odd reason though, my mom told my sisters and me one night that she and my dad had to talk in private. I didn’t know why this had to be, but I wanted to be good for my parents so I just went to bed without asking any questions.

Soon after he got off the phone, my dad came into my room and told my sisters and me that our grandpa was ill, so my mom was going to stay longer in New York. I didn't think much of it because I knew that when I was sick the doctors always fixed me up, so I figured my grandpa would be just fine. I was more disappointed that my mom wouldn't be home as soon as I expected. As I fell asleep that night I prayed that my mom would be home soon.

Time passed by and more and more repetitious days dragged on with the usual routine of going to school, going to church, and playing outside. The end of the month was approaching and I wondered whether my mom was coming back at all. I felt as if she had been gone for a million years. I yearned to see her again and feel the comfort of her magical hugs.

Then one morning when I was getting ready for school my mom called. I wondered why she was calling so early in the morning. After all, we normally had our usual talks at night before my sisters and I were supposed to go bed. My dad picked up the phone and talked to my mom for a little while, his face becoming more strained as the conversation dragged on. My older sister Katie looked at my dad on the phone and started to cry. My sisters and I had no idea why she suddenly burst into tears. It wasn't like she had gotten hurt. It made no sense. Then we figured out why Katie was crying when my dad came over and told us that “Pop-Pop” (our nickname for our grandpa) had passed away. It was January 20th, 2009. 

I was shocked. I knew that my grandpa was sick, but I had just figured that the hospital would make him all better. I didn’t know what to do. My sister, Elizabeth, started to cry and I felt sad but wasn't exactly sure why everyone was so upset. Still confused, I listened to my dad tell us that he was going to contact our teachers so that they would know what was going on. I didn’t really know why he was going to do this because I was perfectly fine. He did so and then we all set out to go to school.

For me the day was pretty normal, except when my teacher took me aside and offered for me to sit with her at lunch. I told her I was good with just sitting with my friends and wondered why everyone was making such a big deal out of my grandpa dying. I didn’t really understand the concept of death myself, but I just went along with everything that was happening.

My mom called us the next day and told us that we were to travel to New York for what she called a “funeral” and a “wake.” I was happy to finally see my mom again and was looking forward to seeing my grandma and cousins. As we arrived at my grandparent’s home, I could see the sadness in my mom and in my grandma’s eyes. My grandma forced a smile to greet me but I could see the pain hidden underneath it, a mask to hide her true sorrow. I then barreled towards my mom and greeted her with a tight hug. That night, my sisters and I played together upstairs while my older sister and the adults talked downstairs about the wake the following day.

Soon it was morning and time to go to the wake and see my grandpa. I didn’t quite know what to do at the wake. My mom told me to be quiet while I was there and not to fight or fool around with my cousins or sisters. I promised her that I was going to be on my best behavior as we set off to the funeral home. Once there, I saw all of my cousins and family members. People were walking up to me and telling my mom and uncle that they were “sorry for their loss.” I for one was tired of giving strange people I didn’t know hugs. I decided to go play with my cousins in a side room. After a while of playing, my mom came in and took my sisters and I outside into a larger room. There was this odd, long, wooden box in the room and my grandpa was lying in it. I asked my mom why my grandpa was lying in the box and wondered if he was just sleeping in there. She then explained to me that my grandpa’s body was in a casket and that he wasn’t living anymore. Instead, she told me that “Pop-Pop” was in heaven with God. I didn’t believe this because his body was right there in front of us, so I went up to see him.

His face looked almost ghostly and he wasn’t breathing. Seeing how still he was, I suddenly realized he was actually gone. It was in this moment that I understood what death really was, and a wave of grief hit me. I suddenly couldn’t bear to look at my grandpa anymore. It was all starting to sink in that I was never going to see him laugh, or play crosswords with him ever again. I realized that I had to take every experience I had with people in the future more seriously. I had to cherish others and treasure my time with them because they could be gone from my life in a second.