He’s lying there, mouth shaped in an “O.” He’s leaning to one side, barely breathing, wasting away, doesn’t know what is going on. The room is silent. My grandma is on my left, and my sister is on my right. My great uncle is here also, along with my two uncles and my parents. Everything is dead silent, except my great grandpa trying harder than ever to get air, to hold onto life just a little longer.

The nurse enters the room; she takes one look at me and knows I’m in so much pain by watching this. She comes over to me and hugs me. She looks at my grandma. They go to the other side of the room and the nurse states, “He won’t last much longer than about a half hour.”
I hear this. I cry even harder. My heart falls and crumbles never to be fixed again. I feel like part of me just died. I’m losing my best friend, in the blink of an eye.

They tell me to go over and tell him goodbye, but I can’t, I can’t do anything but sit on couch and cry. I look at him and I just cry even harder. My mind doesn’t believe this is happening, it’s denying reality “THIS ISN’T TRUE!!!! IT JUST ISN’T!!!!!!!” “I will wake up from this dream. I will call my grandpa. He WILL answer. I WILL be able to hear his voice; and not have this image of his pale skin, and him looking so helpless in the hospital bed, with only minutes to live.” “EVERYTHING WILL TURN OUT OKAY!!!!!!!!!!”

I remember the night of October 10, 2010 better than I remember what I did yesterday. I can recall every conversation that went on in the hospital room, who said it, and how it was said. Even how heavy my grandpa was breathing, it was so scratchy and like something was stuck in his throat and was blocking the air way.

I lost not only a great grandpa that day, WHO TRULY WAS great, but also a best friend. And every day I live with knowing that I didn’t take the chance, in that hospital room, to tell him I love him and goodbye. That is what I regret most in life.