Have you ever lost someone your close to? Someone you love and adore and can’t stand to live with out. I did. I lost my grandpa. He was my best friend. He was a kind and generous man who was always there for me. When we used to visit him he would always be this protective dad. He was like our protector. I lost him in April of last year. I can’t believe it’s been one year. I still miss him and will always miss him. He will always remain in our hearts.

It all started, one school day. I think it was April 13, 2010 on a Tuesday. Mom gets an unexpected call. It was my grandma. I heard my mom talking to my grandma, that my grandpa wasn’t feeling right. That he had urinated blood that day. My grandma was feeling worried because my grandpa was taking to long in the bathroom. That when she entered the bathroom she found my grandpa next to the toilet rolled up in a ball. His face, purple as an over due baby, was loosing oxygen. That my grandpa just barfed and continued to exhale food that he hadn’t ate. He hadn’t eaten for the past week because he wasn’t hungry. My grandma explained. My grandma didn’t know what to do, except get help as soon as possible. So she called Savala, a disguised murderer dressed like a doctor. This doctor calls the ambulance to pick my grandpa up. For some strange, ironic reason Savala told my grandma she couldn’t go in the same ambulance. This is when my mom hangs put.

My mom pale in the face with the phone clenched in one hand says, “Mija tengo que ir de emergencia a Mexico. Tu abuelo esta en el hospital.” The words that came out her mouth gave me discomfort. She gave me a warm kiss on my forehead and walked to my sisters to tell them the news. They were glum with the thought of my mom leaving and my grandpa’s condition. We were all in my parent’s room and it was late already. She turned around and went directly to the closet and grabbed the first empty luggage. She placed it on the bed and started packing. It was a long silence as we watched my mom pack and nearly fold her clothes in what looked like a long cinnamon roll. Until I broke the silence, “Mom can I go”



“No mija you have school tomorrow. Plus you have the CSTs this week.”



“Mom I can make up the CSTs another day.



“No Mija”



“Okay”



“Mija I want you to do the best that you can on the CSTs to show your grandpa you can do it…..Pray for him mamma.



“Okay mom”



“Is he going to be okay?”



“Yes, he’s going to be okay” she says as we head off to go to sleep.



“Love you girls” she says as she gives each one of us a kiss and signs a cross on us as we do in church every Sunday.



“Love you too mom” my sisters and me say uneasily. My mom was going to leave at 1:30 am on Wednesday morning. She gave us a hug and continued packing.

When we woke up my mom was gone and the house was left silent. Not that peacefully silent but the creepy, weird silent. My dad had taken her to the airport after he came home from work. I called her that morning and she said she was in the hospital already. I asked how was my grandpa and she said “he’s fine.” As we changed for school my dad arrives home. He makes us comfortable as to calm us down and not think about my grandpa. “He’s going to be all right” he says.




“We know he is dad, God is by his side” I say

I get a call one day after school. It was April 20, 2010.




“Hola mija” my aunt says




“ Hola ” I say




“How’s my grandpa,” I immediately ask


Unknowingly she says, “ ya se murio mija.”Silence went on for at least five minutes, “Mija, Mija” my aunts guilty, voice pops up in the phone. Silence… “I’ll give the phone to your mom” she says again. I stood there frozen with millions of questions running through my head. When did he die? How’d he die? Who was there? What are they going to do? When is the funeral? How is everyone taking it? How’s my abuelita? All these questions ran through my head, as I sat down on my bed. My mouth open, but no words came out. All of a sudden tears explode down my face like unstoppable fountains. No sound came out, just tears. I hear in the background of the phone, which is glued on to my face. “She didn’t know, huh” said my aunt.

“No” came a familiar voice. I hear a fake calm voice that is desperately trying to hold all the tears in. Still frozen I let I let out a “mom is it true he died, when?”

“Yes” she said. “I’ll call you tomorrow okay mija.”

“Okay mom” I say.

“I love you” she says

“I love you too.” I say as she hung up. I put the phone down slowly. Trying not to let go of it. Then I burst into tears and begin to cry. I had never cried this much for this long.

I got the attention of my sisters but I didn’t want to tell them the situation. For some reason my little sister said, “My grandpa died, didn’t he.” Then both my little sisters automatically started to cry. While all of us were crying the phone rings again. It’s my mom. I quickly try to calm myself as I speak through the phone. “Mija, don’t cry your grandpa is in a better world were he will never suffer again, with God” The sound of her sweet voice mad us feel relieved.

After almost one week of misery, thinking and thinking. My mom calls and says she’s on her way home.

When she got home I noticed she had changed a little in her personality. She was always mad and sad. She told us the whole story of what happened in Mexico. She said that when she got to the hospital her dad, my grandpa, was not moving at all. That he just slept and didn’t wake up. After just a few days in the hospital he started to show progress. He had actually opened his eyes. He recognized all my aunts and uncles, his sons and daughters. When she grabbed his hand and said, “If you can hear me squeeze my hand as hard as you can.” My grandpa would squeeze her hand but weakly. My aunty heard him talk one day when he felt the pillow uncomfortable. This made everyone think he was actually going to live. It turned out that the doctor was a little suspicious. When my grandpa wanted to talk Savala would shove the mask furiously back on my grandpas red face. Not letting my grandpa to talk. The stupid doctor told my uncles that my grandpa needed a tube so that he can pump out the flems. The doctor gave them a wrong size. My uncles and aunts went looking everywhere for that size but couldn’t find that size. After they did found the size they bought it and a smaller one also. The doctor said he tried them on him and but they didn’t fit. Then he said “Well, it’s not that important. He doesn’t really need it right now.” The next day he came and said, “Sorry, I guess he did actually need the pump. He chocked on us.” Ironically he sold everything for a funeral including fixing the dead body. He made my family pay for everything including his tip. This evil doctor took the life of your grandpa. My mom then said, “Let’s not judge Savala let God judge him.”


I couldn’t believe that the last time I would see my grandpa was the day he came from Mexico to visit. I didn’t treasure that moment as much as I would have wanted to. If I would have knew that would be the last time I would have said how much he’s meant to me and how much I love him.