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Rated: 13+ · Other · Death · #1675431
I still remember the date perfectly, as if the tragic happening occurred yesterday.
I still remember the date perfectly, as if the tragic happening occurred yesterday: May 22nd 2007. Nor will I ever forget the time of day she slowly slipped away from this earth’s population.
         I was ten. Ten-years-old was much to young to grab a hold of a concept like this. Yet, I knew what was going on. I knew my grandmother was dying.
         Grammy was more then my dad’s mother to me. She was more like a very close friend who I could tell my life too. I spilled out my heartaches and she seemed to understand everything. We were connected in so many ways: I had four brothers and no sisters; she had six brothers and no sisters. We both loved the older days when people lived on farms and rode in carriages. We adored hanging out in the woods and catching bullfrogs and butterflies as a pastime.
         I miss those summer days terribly when I could just bike over to her house and spend the afternoon playing card games, hearing Grammy remise about her younger life when she watched her brothers slaughter an owl or just going into her backyard and fiddling with the garden tools.
         I have always kept in mind the times when my father and I drove the back way to her condo, with all the bumps and splashing from muddy puddles collecting on the side of our beaver van. Grammy always knew when we were coming, even if we arrived unannounced.
         My tears never plan on fading away when I think of the only grandparent I was really closed with my whole life.

I was never bored with her still living. She was only a walk away from my school and a bike ride away from my home. She invited me over no matter what she was doing or what state she was in.
         I was ever so grateful for that, with all my heart. And I didn’t want to admit that it was soon she had to go.

It came so suddenly. It was only the day before; my dad and I were visiting her before a plane trip to Disney World with my three aunts. Grammy was excited for it and looked healthy as a seventy-nine-year-old could.
         We wished her to have fun and left about eleven o’clock that evening.

I woke up the next morning, overhearing my dad talking to my mom. My ears perked up as I heard him say Grammy was taken to the hospital earlier that morning by my uncle.
         I demanded what was wrong with her and wouldn’t leave till my parents gave me a straight answer.
         They told me that my grandmother wasn’t feeling the super best when they came to pick her up. She was fevering up and having an uncontrollable state of burping.
         I didn’t understand. She was just fine not fifteen hours ago.
         They were lying to me. I wanted to believe my parents were, but they would never lie about something this serious.

Our family piled up in the can and drove off the hospital days later. I wanted to see Grammy and to make sure she was ok. But my instinct told me it was doubtful.

Grammy had cancer. I don’t know how long she had it for, but the doctors said she mostly wouldn’t live.
         The first week or so she was there, Grammy was fine on the outside. She was still talking to all of her family, eating proper and sleeping peacefully.
         But that didn’t last. I still get tears in my eyes when I remember her horrible condition while in that bed for two weeks. She couldn’t talk. I rarely saw her eyes open. She had to urinate through a tube that was connected to a plastic bag.

My grandmother was there for most of the month of May. Grammy was there when my younger brother’s birthday passed by. She was there when Mother’s day went (and we made it one she would never forget).  My grandmother was there when my four-day weekend came along. But I would not be enjoying it.

It was a Tuesday night. My mom and myself traveled down to her condo to try and find things to bring to the hospital for Grammy.
         I wondered through her house, trying to place ourselves there, having a great time like we used too.
         I trotted into her walk-in closet to tumble upon a beautiful picture of her when she was about sixty. I pulled it down from the wall and my tear splashed down on the glass covering.
         Something inside told me to glance at the clock. It was 9:05 pm exactly. I told myself to bring this picture home with me, so I would never forget about Grammy.

We arrived at home. Mom told me to gallop to bed and would go down to the hospital tomorrow.
         I did as she told me to. But it wasn’t long when we got a phone call. I crawled out of bed to see who it was.
         My mom answered it. And she now had tears flowing down her face. I automatically knew what happened and fell on the couch in tears.
         She hung up the phone and pulled me in my arms.
         “Grammy passed away peacefully with her family surrounding her.” Mother said, kissing my forehead.
         “How long ago did she leave, Mom?” I had to ask. So I could remember.
         “About ten minutes ago. Around five after nine.”
         I was little shocked more than ever. But then I knew what really happened.
         God placed me at Grammy’s house toward her last minutes. He moved me into her closet and lifted my arms to her picture at the very moment.
         I don’t think of it as a coincidence. I think of it as a helpful reminder this even if Grammy wasn’t on this earth, she was still in my heart.

I’m thirteen now. I cry less and less with each passing day since the death. I sometimes feel guilty. But now, I feel like Grammy is really proud of me. I always knew she would be looking down at me, being proud that I was being happy then wailing my life away. She could want me to fulfill each day I live and never forget her everlasting love toward me.
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