It’s September 27, 2013, I was just told that my grandpa Hanson was getting better. I had my doubts about him getting better because, when I was told that he was going in for a routine surgery, I automatically flashed back to my grandpa Lutz. Though this surgery had complications, the doctors keep telling us that things were getting better and that he’s going to be home soon. The ride to my dad’s house is weird; he isn’t talking to my sister and I at all. Usually he’s always joking with us and teasing us. He didn’t even say anything when I told him that the doctors said my grandpa was getting better. Even though my mom and him are divorced, he still cares about them. We arrive home and I go in my room as usual until my dad calls me out of my room and I see my mom standing in the door crying. I wasn’t sure why she would be here, let alone crying and my sister and I go outside with her to find out why she’s here.
She’s crying so much and I don’t understand why. She finally tells us the one thing that brought my world crashing down around me, our grandpa Hanson died that day. I’m overcome by sadness, hurt, and anger. I stand there hugging her crying, I can’t stop crying. But I pull myself away to go back into the house, I just want to be alone. I get into the house and immediately my father tries to comfort me; he tells me that he would’ve told me sooner but our mom wanted to tell me. A new emotion joins the already boiling inner turmoil I’m experiencing, betrayal. He knew the whole time and didn’t tell us. I know he had reasons, but I refuse to understand them. The only thing I know is that he knew my grandpa died, and he didn’t tell me. I walk into my room and close the door. He tries to comfort me and talk to me, but when he opens the door, I slam it back in his face. I don’t want to be around anyone, I just want to be alone to cry.