• When I look back, my heart aches. The pain slowly grows threatening to over flow. That first month, of not knowing. Of not knowing if. Of not knowing when. Of not knowing anything, was painful. I never thought, not for one second that it could get worse. When I got that call, I finally understood. Understood those movies, understood those books, understood those songs, about losing someone you love. I felt like the whole world was caving in, like any second the sky would turn dark and all hell would break lose. It never happened. The sky stayed sunny as ever, people’s lives went on, peace was still around me; only that peace never penetrated my “bubble.” Inside, nothing was peaceful, as I tried to put what my dad had said together.

    Just like that, all my waiting ended, and I knew. He was gone. My grandpa was gone. Time froze for a second and I burst into tears. Sad that my grandpa was gone, yet deep inside there was that happiness, no matter how small, that my grandpa was finally free. Free from all the pain that he was in. Free to be where he wanted to be. Free to be up in Heaven.

    Now two months after it started, one month after it ended, I still cry when letting my mind wonder back to the past. I still cry inside when I think of the times I spent with my grandpa. I still cry inside when I think back to that month of waiting. I still cry inside when I step foot in my grandparent’s house. I still cry inside every time I see his pictures. People say it gets easier with time, but the pain never goes away completely. It lingers in my heart, somehow keeping all my memories inside.