In the end the only people you can rely on are your family and the few select friends that have earned that title. In the end you realize your mistakes, but it's too late to correct them. In the end everything will be okay.

My grandfather passed away last night, well technically today at 4 in the morning, I should be happy I visited him on his last day. But I couldn't speak to him, that mask that he need in order to breathe constrained him to feebly write the last thing he ever wrote- "I want to die." So he got his wish, I could hope and think he is in a happier place but my mind cannot allow that. I am wired to think logically and that just doesn't process. Although I wish to imagine him in heaven and with his wife, I can't stop thinking how there can be life after life ends. I wish that we hadn't sent him to the hospital, that way he could have died at home surrounded by family and not fading away with the indifferent doctors that cannot deal with mortality. I aspire to be a doctor you know and I've learned some of the lexicon. The number one rule of being a doctor is to be close to the patient and make them comfortable, heal them and consolidate the family. I never saw his doctor the three weeks he was there and it seemed to me he got worse when he went there. Life can handle a lot to you, but breaking down is what it wants you to do. An all-powerful being creates for what? To be loved by his creatures since he is the only one of his kind, and without us he is alone just as we would be without him.

It was about three in the morning, I was fading away myself. I was trying to sleep, but my aunt was snoring loudly.I head the phone rang and I thought something had happened to my dad since he works so late on saturdays, I was wrong by one generation. As I heard the creak of my mom's bedroom door, I knew something wrong had happened. She got closer and the hall light flickered on, I asked what happened and I got my answer. He seemed fine 12 hours ago... The snoring stopped and crying came. So we waited for my dad to go to the hospital and in that time we told his five kids, eight other grandkids and his bestfriend who he had known for sixty some years. As we waited, I couldn't stop thinking about my homework schedule and what I had to finish. I thought to myself, you are one heartless f***. But you have to deal with sorrow one way or another and if my method is to do it alone it is my way. I don't allow myself to show weakness, something I've no idea where I picked up.

When my dad arrived, the first thing he did was walk in the door and put his hands on my shoulders and told me not to feel too sad. It was peculiar. We got to the hospital, it was empty, a good thing. As we reached his room, i came to realize he was indeed gone. The dumbest thing someone can do is think a dead person can come back. But if you've ever lost someone, there's a small feeling inside that somehow being dead means everything will be the same. That is atleast until you see the body.

The four of us stood there, looking upon his emaciated body. He had not eaten a lot during his stay, I wouldn't have eaten it either. My aunt cried calling to her deceased father, my father stood there calling him too. It was as if we expected him to open his eyes and greet us. I didn't feel anything inside me, but I had my own tears. When someone dies, you don't need to know who he was or what he did. The departure of a human being is saddening enough. So as my own tears flowed, my dad told me say good-bye. I tried to utter the word, but I somehow couldn't. I couldn't lose my composure and restraint, but I did for the slightest moment.

Today we went through his things, throwing out stuff and keeping sentimental objects. As we sifted through, I thought about the times I had yelled at him, not spent time with him, and how I hated seeing him everyday after I came home from school. Now, I begin to miss the things that I use to hate. The thing about love and hate is that their the same exact thing. I wish I could tell him I'm sorry, but it's obviously too late now.

I can't remember the last time I came home and he was waiting for me, but I can remember the time how I told him I was busy when I really wasn't. However, I am glad that I do have one memory that I can remember forever-one that is good.

It's just weird to know that he's gone forever, I'm not sure what life will be like now. But life goes on, and one day my father will die then me; then we shall see if there is indeed life after death.