The smell of Italian cuisine wafted out the open door, greeting us as if we belonged. The waiter showed us to our seats as quick as possible. The purple blossoms on the climbing vines made the setting a little more tranquil. We were seated and began some small talk, like chickens just waking up; a few words here and there, not completely filling the awkward silence. “How have you been?” someone would ask.
“Not bad,” someone else would say.
“Oh, that’s good…” My mom was wearing a purple blouse and a black midi skirt. The purple really brought out the green in her eyes. My two older sisters were in plain colored shirts and jean shorts. My cousin was sporting the latest fashion trend, bangs, a brightly colored high necked tank top, and heavy eyeliner. My little sister and I got all dressed up; I was wearing my favorite pink tennis style tank top dress with a high ponytail.  My little sister, who was only four, was wearing a light blue dress to go with her bleach blonde, wispy hair. She was the only one out of us girls left with blue eyes, so her dress complimented hers eyes very well. And then there was my grandpa. At the time I thought he was a big man, tall with a shaved head; he looked like an old lumberjack with his flannel shirt on and tough jeans.
After we all had ordered our food and gotten our drinks, my grandfather broke our awkward silence. “As you all know, I am dying.” At this, all conversation stopped, and my little sister started crying really hard. Tears fell like little pearls down our faces, but my little sister Catie cried waterfalls. Once we got her calmed down, my grandpa started to speak again, “Your sorrow is indeed an honor to me, but I do not want to cause any pain. So be happy and let me love my last days, and also shower you in my love.” I remember thinking, I owe him this, and however long he has left should be the best part of his life. It’s selfish of me to cry and be sad when he isn't even gone yet.
So in a minute we started to chat happily, laughing at all the great memories we had made with grandpa. Our aromatic food arrived, all different colors of cream, a few splashes of green or red, here and there, and after we finished all our food, we were all happy little lumps. Our lump of a grandpa brought out a polished wooden box. We were all super curious as to what was in the box. To our surprise, five necklaces came out, one pearl necklace for each girl. Tahnee, Amber, and Jamie all had the same necklace, bright rainbow-colored pearls adorned the sliver threads, brilliant green, vivid purple, rich yellow, and intense violet. They were some of the prettiest colors I have ever seen. Catie and I had different necklaces than the other girls. Catherine’s necklace was the softest pink ever created; just looking at it brings up thoughts of babies and soft childhood blankets, kittens and piglets. It had a supple shimmer to it, as all those perfect things do. As for my necklace, a golden orange string of pearls made my eyes grow and widen, a color that reminded me of the beach, sunsets, and orange creamsicles. A golden glow emanated from my pearls, captivating me. The necklaces were all handmade by my grandpa, and they were his masterpieces.
Once dinner was over, we all hugged my grandpa, telling him how much we loved the necklaces, and then it was my turn to cry. I said, “This is the most special thing I will ever be given in my entire life Grandpa, I love you!” Through my tears I could see his eyes weren't exactly dry either. He died a couple weeks later, one of the saddest days or weeks of my life. I wore my pearl necklace to his funeral, and so did all my sisters, everyone dressed in all black, except my little sister and I who had on a pastel pink dress and a glowing orange dress, to match our most prized possessions.