My heart was racing, tears streaming down my face like rivers. It felt like I was suffocating in my own fears. He was gone. All you could hear was my family crying, and the heart monitor.

The day was October twentieth. It was a school day, and I was a sixth grader. The weather was nice, and I was on my way to school. I was late, so my mom had to drive me. My mom pulled up in front of the middle school drive. My dad came running up to the car, and told me to go inside. I could tell something was wrong, I could see it in his face. His expression told me it was serious. When I got inside, I saw my Aunt and all of my cousins crying and holding each other. They asked if I knew what was wrong, and even though I didn’t have a clue I shook my head yes. My mom picked up my two younger siblings from school, and we were off to the hospital.

At the hospital we went into the waiting room, which consisted of white walls, and dark green chairs. We were sitting down for to me what seemed hours. Finally, my family told all my little cousins what was going on. My Aunt said that my grandfather was a few rooms away from us, and that at six thirty that morning, he was officially pronounced brain dead, so he didn’t have much longer until there was no other option than to pull the plug on his life support. Two at a time, all of us were able to go into his room and say our last words to him. I was one of the last to go in the room. When I got into the room, I saw a lot of my older family surrounding the corners of the walls just starring at him and weeping.
I was scared because when you were next to his bedside all you could see was his eyes rolling back and forth, as he laid perfectly still. His face was as white as snow, as well as his body and his hands were cold. He wasn’t talking, but I knew he could hear every word we said. I played him his favorite song, and I sang it too. My voice was shaky from the tears I was trying hard to hold back. I grabbed his hand and told him I loved him, and not to worry, and that he was going to like it in heaven. I laid my head on his chest, and listened to his heartbeat. After I hugged him my Aunt told me it was time for me to leave the room, so I kissed his forehead and prayed for him, then I left.

About an hour later my dad came into the waiting room and announced that my grandfather was officially gone. I think that day, brought my whole family closer together. I have never seen so much hugging and crying in my lifetime. Sometimes, I still hear his voice, talking to me. When I can’t sleep at night. Sometimes, I still feel his presence, like he is right next to me, showing me the right path. At the same time, I know he is gone and he can never return to me. That’s the last stage of grief, “Acceptance”.