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The Death Of My Grandfather

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The Death Of My Grandfather
When a relative dies, there is no other feeling like this one. Whether it is an immediate relative or not, it still hurts. A question that pops into the human mind is, "Why did this happen to my relative?" or, "What could I have done to prevent this from happening?" Many times, as humans feel that there is an answer to everything, even when there is not.

Even before I was born, my grandfather loved me. It was so hard for my mother to conceive me that I was known as a miracle baby to not only my mom and dad, but my grandparents as well. I was born two months early and stayed in the hospital for eleven weeks. After that, at the age of two, I caught pneumonia and was admitted back into the hospital for another long stay. My grandfather stayed at the hospital with me the entire time I was there. With my parents worrying, he was the support system of my family. The need for my parents to work made it possible for my grandfather to take care of me during the day. As age crept upon me, he began to take me out of the house to experience life - to experience what being a child truly entailed. We went to the mall, the circus, the park, and of course, church. Church to me was a time where grown-ups got together to sing, cry, and in other words, act crazy. As I got even older, he began to teach me what church was really about. I began to appreciate it more and gain a respect for it that I never used to have.

When it was time for me to go to school, I dreaded it, just as I used to dread going to church. This time was supposed to be a time of learning, but it ended up being a time of miserable isolation from the one 's I loved. Crying became an everyday routine with me as I was dropped off at school everyday. The words of my grandfather playing over and over in my head as I made the long journey down the school corridor reminded me of the times when I felt safe inside his haven of joy and happiness. The halls of the school reminded me of the empty spot in my heart the
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