River Gray Momentum
Today, four years ago, I was a sixth grader in my last semester. I wasn't at school, however, where I was supposed to be. Instead it was my fourth day in El Salvador; my grandfather was ill and had gotten worse and so, my mother and I left immediately when we got the news that he fallen into a sort of coma state. I wasn't really told much, or if I was, I can't remember. The same day we were informed, we drove to Mexico in order to buy a medicine that we hoped would help my grandfather and my mom bought tickets to leave to El Salvador; my dad had to stay behind at home. All in that one day. My mom, aunt, cousin, and I left for El Salvador, worried and, I guess, hoping for some miracle to save Grandpa. Today, four years ago, I lost my grandpa.
They didn't let minors go in the hospital, so I never got a chance to say good-bye... It's something that I've never... let go? It makes me feel bad... I was closer to Grandma, but I still loved Grandpa, too. Did he know that? I can't remember telling him "I love you, Grandpa" and it's sad...
That same year, three months earlier, my mom and I went to spend a vacation over there. I remember that when we got there, my grandpa suddenly just got my mom and I and just embraced us tightly while he started to cry. I wonder if he knew what was ahead... and then the same when my mom and I were going back home. He stood behind the clear glass wall and had his hands on it, crying and just looking at my mother and I. He never did that before. How was I supposed to know that this trip would be the last time I saw him alive? That the next time I would see him, he would be in a coffin. In a coffin, not hearing one of my aunts, his youngest daughter, cry out to him, her hands on the glass while she pleaded that he answer her. That my mother and I couldn't really cry with everyone else because they were falling apart and there needed to be someone to help them get all through this. That my mother and I had to be strong for everyone else. That I didn't really cry until his burial, where I couldn't bottle it in anymore. How? I was only eleven.
Today, my parents and I are going to church and my mom will the priest my grandpa's name to remember him during the mass.
Even though I have been able to accept it, I still wish I had a chance to tell him that I liked having him as a grandfather. That even though I spent more time with Grandma, I still cared a lot about him, too. A chance to say good-bye.
They didn't let minors go in the hospital, so I never got a chance to say good-bye... It's something that I've never... let go? It makes me feel bad... I was closer to Grandma, but I still loved Grandpa, too. Did he know that? I can't remember telling him "I love you, Grandpa" and it's sad...
That same year, three months earlier, my mom and I went to spend a vacation over there. I remember that when we got there, my grandpa suddenly just got my mom and I and just embraced us tightly while he started to cry. I wonder if he knew what was ahead... and then the same when my mom and I were going back home. He stood behind the clear glass wall and had his hands on it, crying and just looking at my mother and I. He never did that before. How was I supposed to know that this trip would be the last time I saw him alive? That the next time I would see him, he would be in a coffin. In a coffin, not hearing one of my aunts, his youngest daughter, cry out to him, her hands on the glass while she pleaded that he answer her. That my mother and I couldn't really cry with everyone else because they were falling apart and there needed to be someone to help them get all through this. That my mother and I had to be strong for everyone else. That I didn't really cry until his burial, where I couldn't bottle it in anymore. How? I was only eleven.
Today, my parents and I are going to church and my mom will the priest my grandpa's name to remember him during the mass.
Even though I have been able to accept it, I still wish I had a chance to tell him that I liked having him as a grandfather. That even though I spent more time with Grandma, I still cared a lot about him, too. A chance to say good-bye.