A Hard Time
One morning I woke up and walked to one of the rooms in our house where my cousin was sleeping. He was going to help my mom build a brick wall at the side of our house, so he was sleeping over. My two brothers were in his room talking with him while he was rolling up his sleeping bag.
We all hung out for maybe an hour, when my dad came in and asked to see my brothers and I in his room. Without thinking anything of it, we got up from our seated positions on the floor and followed my dad into his room. My Mom was sitting on their bed, a tissue box resting near her. She blew her nose, and we sat down at the edge of the bed, our backs to her.
My dad stood in front of us and just looked at us for a minute, then began slowly. “Last night, your Grandpa had a heart attack.”
I looked at my dad in shock. My mom made a strange sound that sounded like laughing in my ten year-old mind. I smiled, thinking it was all a joke. But when I looked back at my mom, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her eyes were red. She blew her nose again, and I knew this was no joke.
A tear broke through and rolled slowly down my cheek; that was just the beginning.
My dad looked at us sorrowfully. “He went upstairs to go to bed. Your Grandma heard a thump and went up to check on him. He was gone quickly, and your Uncle Sam called us. We were gone most of the night. Your cousin already knows, and he is going back home today.”
By then, my older brother and I were already crying—hard. My mom had tried to hold it in when we had first come in, but now we were all in the middle of a sob fest. I turned around and crawled to my mom’s side, snuggling next to her and bawling.
He was my mom’s dad.
My dad was also very close to him.
Grandpa had held a special place in my heart and other’s.
I felt torn.
I didn’t want to believe it.
It couldn’t be true…
My younger brother didn’t understand and wasn’t affected the way the rest of us were. He was too young to care. But for me, it was one of the hardest things I ever had to go through. He was the first person in my life that I really cared about to die.
That night has never left my memory, and never will. We cried for the longest time. I couldn’t imagine what my grandma must’ve been feeling.
The next couple of weeks were long. Relatives came from all over the place to pay their respects. We were at my grandma’s house every day. I played with the rest of my cousins, but I still had a hard time of it.
I felt like I was the only one among my cousins that was affected. We were all pretty young, the oldest being maybe fifteen.
I thought that just the news of my grandpa’s death was hard, but what was even harder was the funeral. I sat in the front pew in the church with the rest of my cousins. When the pastor began reading and talking about my grandpa, I couldn’t hold back the tears—no matter how hard I tried. One of my youngest cousins was sitting in my lap, and she left because I was crying so much.
Something that touched me greatly was how many people showed up at the funeral to talk about my grandpa or to comfort us. That also was the first day I had ever seen my dad cry.
Even though it was hard, I knew God was there with us. The first question that went through my mind was why He took grandpa from us. I asked that of God for years. I never quite understood. I still cry every time I think about my grandpa. But I also know that he is up in heaven with our Lord, and I will see him someday.
I have found a peace in the thought. But I could never have come to that conclusion without praying, my family, and reading my Bible.
God helped us through it.
He never once left me—us.