Every time it rains slow but intense they say someone dies. The year was two thousand and fifteen, It was the worst and most tremendous summer of my thirteen years of being alive. Today I am standing in the front row of the church, the contaminated air is being shown through the light of the windows in the church, and it almost seems as if the inside has never been dusted. I’m surrounded by close family and friends, and other humans that I have never seen in my entire existence.

That very morning was slow, and long. Like time had stopped for three hours, as the seconds went by slow and long, I couldn't bare the thought of what was to come next Sitting straight, still, and quiet is what I am doing. Hiding my face from humiliation was my goal… that I could not and did not achieve. The lump in my throat grew bigger and larger until it felt as if I had a Jawbreaker stuck in my throat. I couldn't speak the words I needed to say. Everytime I opened my mouth my lips would crack from the dry air, and nothing would come out. My mouth was as dry as an Arizona desert, and my voice was unheard of for a straight hour. My eyes spoke for my mouth instead. The church was silent, too silent to be comfortable, The dusty light was bright coming through the stained glass on the walls even though the rain was just now starting to trickle down, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Looking around the old church, you could see the old carpet revealing itself through the new warn down red and the walls were stained with layers of dusts. Everyone was the same. We all wore black. And while some people had the strength to speak with their tongues, there were others like myself, who couldn't say a sentence, a line, or just one word. The color of the room made my heart fill with grief. People only wore black to funerals. It was nice to think that people in this ballistic world had outfits they always will wear to wedding, and family reunions, and finally people started caring enough to keep an outfit just for the dead. I guess people do  have a heart.

“Grief is the price you pay when you love someone” My grandma would always say that to me when foolish guys would break my heart. Only at the age of thirteen did I finally understand what she meant. That day I was holding my family on my shoulders, But the only person that I knew wouldn't be okay for a long time was my grandpa. I didn't know what to say to him, words came to my mind but then slowly dissipated. I didn’t understand what to do, but this was the time of the day where he needed words other than “I'm sorry for your lose”. My eyes blurred with the salty water draining down my face as I cranked my neck every which way looking for him, the rows behind me were filled with all sorts of people packing into the front like hungry wolves ready to pounce at the prey.

People with faces I knew and didn’t know surrounded the church but I couldn’t find him, until I heard his cry echo from the front of the room where my grandma laid peacefully in a pink pedal coffin, the air was surrounded in that musty smell that only the funeral homes could give off, and it was all lit up surrounded by Roses, Lace Leafs, Anemones, Lilies, Carnations, Baby Breaths, and Blue bells, Pictures throughout her life were placed all around to show everyone how happy she was. We were all sitting here celebrating her great happy life, when no one but my grandpa was celebrating the unhappy times, the fights, the times where her sickness took over,and where he thought she was gone, it made my heart fall. He sat there on the floor shedding tears, asking for forgiveness and to not leave him. Everyone watched with there eyes but no one had enough heart to go to him. Except me.
As I stood up and I started to walk, my feet felt like bricks I could barely move, but I pushed through it and carried on silently. I stopped right behind him, and put my hand on his back gently. He shook as he sat there weeping. I couldn't bare to see the pain on his face. It would make my stomach turn. So, Instead I watched my grandma. I knew my brain was trying to trick me when I started searching for any movement so I could know that it was all just a prank, or some sort of dream...But it wasn't. I stared at her face, which was sunken in and pale. Her cheeks were not flushed with the red blush she used to put on every morning, she just looked lifeless. That wasn't my grandma anymore, it was only the shell of her body left on earth while her soul was in heaven. She looked peaceful and happy and that made me grin, just a bit,for just a second, my heart skipped a beat knowing that she was finally somewhere happy.

I jumped when my grandpa took my hand, It knocked me out of my thoughts, and I looked at him. Our eyes shared the same grief, and his face was covered with a look

I've never seen on him before, for a little bit it scared me. But we stood there silently until he hugged me. People were watching us silently, whispering, and I just stared at the light coming through the dusty church window, wishing this wasn’t true.

“In the path of righteousness is life, and in its pathway there is no death.” I whispered this verse into his ear, and he stopped and looked at me with grateful eyes and went to go sit. I felt like something I actually said meant more to him than anything in that moment.

After we all stood there sobbing, one by one like an ant line we said our goodbyes one last time and made our way to the exit. I watched people talk about my grandma, and how she was loved by everyone she's ever known. It was almost as if I believed it too, But in reality my grandma didn't love everyone, she was just one amazing women who could seem happy, no matter what pain she was in.

In the cemetery, standing outside with all the people I did but didn't know, I felt claustrophobic, like everyone was pushing up against me and I couldn't breath. Once I relocated myself off to the side from the huge pack of black, the wind blew as the rain trickled from the sky above and it gave me goose bumps, This whole day I had goosebumps but today was the first day I ever really payed attention to them. The preacher stood behind my grandma who no one could longer see, the light pick casket was closed and locked tight, keeping my grandma snuggled inside. No matter how many times I doubted that she was in there, I had to stand there and accept reality that she was gone.  I guess you could say life and death has a change on this earth, No matter if you knew them, or if you've never met them before.