text: \[This is a retelling of the night my grandpa died; it's not finished. I have changed the names in this story for safety reasons. If you have any suggestions on how I can become better as a writer please leave a comment down below, thank you.\] "What am I going to do once he's gone?" That single thought chased itself around and around in my head, unanswered. I stood in front of the stove watching the noodles boil in the pot, with tired eyes. This had been the longest week of my life. Grandpa was sick, really sick. Mom had a priest perform his final rights a few days ago. His doctors were certain he didn't have much longer now. That was hard to accept. The idea that he would be gone soon. Distantly, I hear mom and dad talking. But I carry on with what I'm doing, this was the first moment I'd had to myself this past week. So much of our family had come to say their goodbyes. While it was nice to see them, it was so hard to be happy. I just wanted to eat and sleep. Briefly I toyed with the idea of waking up from this nightmare. But there would be no end to this. Not even when he passed on. The dread sat heavily in the center of my chest pulling me back to the present. I sighed, fighting back tears. Just then, dad ran to the kitchen tears in his eyes, "Poet!" he says hurriedly. I look to him and my heart drops, "What's going on?" I ask somehow knowing before he says, "Grandpa." and that's all he has to say. Immediately I stop what I'm doing, and I rush into Grandpa's room. there in the darkness Mom is holding a stethoscope, at his side. Her face locked in concentration, and I can clearly see pain and sadness behind her eyes. I stand in the doorway, ice water rushing through my veins. 'Please. No, not yet.' I think to myself, 'I need more time.' I plead internally. There are so many things we need to do still. We have to go to Texas so you can tell me about your family. I need to learn Spanish so we can actually have a conversation. I can feel my heart beginning to break, as I look up at my mom silently asking, 'Is he-?' Mom glances over at me and gives the tiniest shake of her head. He's gone. Before I realize what, I'm doing I walk over to the side of his bed, and I gently take his cooling hand into mine. Tears running down my face, I sit next to him. My breathing becomes erratic, and the tears burn tracks down my cheeks. time ceases to exist as I remember who he was and is to me. All that he meant to me and how lucky I was to have him in my life. &#x200B; (to be continued...