Not My Grandpa
It’s about two in the morning and the phone is ringing. Who is calling me at this time? It’s my mom. She never calls this late I am saying to myself. Something must be wrong. Sleepily, I answer the phone. “Brittany”, “I’m so sorry, but Grandpa has passed.” I look around the room it is pitch dark, I can’t see anything. I am having a nightmare. Grandpa isn’t gone!
As I realize this is not a dream, a horrible feeling comes over me. I am extremely saddened with this news. I feel lost, confused and angry. I cannot control all of these emotions.
I am angry, angry with God. Why God? Why did you take him away from me? I hate you God; I am cursing God and asking him again why. Slowly, my anger is turning into sadness. Tears are falling uncontrollably; it literally feels like someone has opened the flood gates.
Silently, I began to ask myself who would I share stories with? Who would I help carry in wood? Who would make me homemade ice cream out of snow? What about the campfires, roasting marshmallows and hotdogs. Who would tell me jokes? What about Grandma, how is she going to handle not having him around? Will I lose her too? What about Dad, how is he going to handle the news? Will we be able to get him home in time for the funeral (he is overseas in Iraq). So many questions are flooding my mind.
My tears are coming to a stop and I begin to think, he is in a better place. Grandpa has been sick too long. I don’t want him to be on this earth suffering (Parkinson’s disease and Alzheimer’s disease) like he had been the past three years. I want him to remember me, remember all the good times we shared. I was being selfish; I want Grandpa alive, I don’t want to lose him. Deep down I know that this is not the life for him. I know that there would be no more pain and no more suffering he would have to endure.
I am starting to feel a sense of relief that his pain is gone and his memory is restored. I can feel myself smiling as I remember...