It was a long time ago, so I'll try to remember. It all started when
my grandpa had been sick. He had two heart attacks in a month's time. One day
after school, my mom finally showed up, she was all in tears, and she told me
she needed to talk to me outside. I said, "Okay" She took me outside, still
crying, and said, "Your grandpa died." I look at her like, "Your joking right?"
Then she said, "I'm not playing with you." My mom told me he had another heart
attack and fell into the trash can but didn't get back up. I didn't know what to think.
Then I burst into tears. She told me to get my books and coat, and we would go see my grandma.
When we saw her my grandma, she was crying more than my mom and I put together.
Later we went to see my grandpa at the funeral home and then went home. I could not
sleep for days after that. I had nightmares and it was hard for me to sleep.
Then the day came for the big funeral. We went to my grandma's house for a big dinner.
After the dinner we went to the church and listened to the priest talk for about an hour
about how everyone loved my grandpa. My aunt didn't want to let him go. My grandma understood.
I saw my dad cry for the first time that day.
Now, today, I don't remember much about my grandpa, butI know he is still with me in my heart.
Some day when I'm old and gray, I will see him again in the Vally of God.