It was my junior year of high school and the first day of my Thanksgiving break, one of the best times of the school year where kids get to enjoy a break from school and spend time with their families. I woke up around 10am on Wednesday, looked out the window and saw a bright blue sky and the sun shining bright.  It seemed to be a perfect day, but I had this weird stomach ache, like the one you get when something really bad happens. I’m sure everyone has had that awful feeling. I just shook it off and went to school to work out with my football team, just like any other off day, but something didn’t feel right when I was there. I knew something was wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on it, so after a couple of hours I decided to go home. I live a mile and a half from school, but for some reason the drive home felt like I was on the road for an hour. I walked in my door, my mom and sister are standing there waiting for me. I knew that this was not going to end well. I could tell my mom was crying before I got home because her eyes were red and cheeks were puffy. She said, “Mike you should probably sit down.”

“Alright,” I said, “What’s wrong?”

She looks at my sister, looks back at me and says, “Your grandma had a severe stroke and is in a coma at the hospital right now.” It felt like I was punched in the stomach, I was sick. I didn’t say anything, I just sat there. I started to think how could this happen? How could my grandma, who seemed invincible, have a stroke? My mom told me we were going to go to the hospital to visit. I got in the backseat of the car and sat there with a blank stare. I was in shock. We get to the hospital and take the elevator up what seemed like 40 stories, walk down the longest hallway ever, and turn right into the room. Before I walked in, I was greeted by my cousins, aunts, uncles, great aunts, great uncles, but most importantly my dad. I knew this wasn’t something minor when I saw his face, the bravest man in the world, had been crying. I somehow scrambled up enough courage to walk in the room. I took one glance at my grandma and lose it. She is laying there attached to all these machines that are keeping her alive. She looks miserable. I walk over and sit in the corner of the room and just stared at her for hours, while I feel the tears running down my face. My life with my grandma just flashed before my eyes, memories of my childhood were coming at me at 100 miles per hour. I thought to myself: that’s my best friend lying on her deathbed and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Thanksgiving the next day was miserable. My grandma is the best cook I have ever met, and not having her home cooked food on a holiday made me feel terrible. I wasn’t alone though, everybody was sad, depressed and kept checking in with my dad and uncle who were staying overnight at the hospital. The day went by so fast, it felt like a blur, I don’t remember much from it. The rest of my Thanksgiving break consisted of me waking up in the morning, going immediately to the hospital, spending every hour I could next to my grandma’s side, hoping that maybe just for a second she will wake up and I could tell her not to go, how much I love her, or even just hear her voice one last time. Then I would leave late at night, go to bed, and repeat it all over again until the next day. Then on the Monday and Tuesday after break, I would wake up, go to school, and go straight to the hospital after school, and stay there until 10 pm. Before I left on Tuesday, my grandma was not doing well. My Dad sat me, my mom, sister, uncle, aunt, and cousin down to talk about the options we had. We could keep her on life support and watch her struggle, or we could take her off of it, and let her go peacefully. Everyone in the room kind of sank down in their chairs and started to tear up. After awhile we decided it would be best if we let her out of her misery. It was the hardest decision anyone in my family has ever made.

The next day, Wednesday, December 2nd, felt just like the previous two, except I decided to stay after school a little while to workout with my football team and get my mind off things. Coach Inserra, my football coach, came into the field house and called me over to him and said, “Mike, you need to leave.”

Just thinking he wanted me to go be with my grandma, I said, “No, it’s ok I’m going to stay for a bit and go see her after.” Then he walked over to me, put his arms around me and said, “Your parents are here Mike...You need to go.” I knew that was a bad sign, but I didn’t move, I stood there in disbelief. I asked him, “Is she gone?” He didn’t say a word, just looked at me with a tear in his eye, wrapped his arms around me, and just kept saying, “I’m so sorry.” My parents drove me home. I cried the entire way home. All I could think was I just lost the most important person in my life, how am I supposed to grow up without her in my life? When I got home I went from sad to mad, I ran to my basement, picked up a pool stick, shattered it over my knee, and punched the wall and left 5 dents from my knuckles. I started to blame myself. Why would I let the decision of taking her off life support be made? Why? Why? Why? I opened up the door, snow immediately hit my face, I ran and kept running until I got to the football field. I laid down in the middle of the field and started to cry. I started to talk to her, “How could you leave me? I’m only 17, I need my grandma in my life. Please don’t go.” I sat there in the cold for hours. I felt numb when I finally realized that she wasn’t coming back. So instead of asking why she left me, I said goodbye. “Goodbye grandma. I know you are in a better place now. I know you will watch over me and protect me. But most importantly I love you and will never forget you.” I began to walk home when I remembered my dad. And how he had just made the biggest decision of his life and how he lost his mother. I knew I had to be brave for him because he needed me. I had to put my feelings on hold, my dad was hurting and I needed to step up and be there for him.

That Saturday was the funeral. As I sat in the church, I thought about the past week and the decision that was made. I realized it was the best thing for my grandma. She was suffering in pain, it would have been selfish of us to keep her alive for our sake. She was an angel on earth and was going to be an angel in heaven, so why keep her from letting her spread her wings and fly. Next thing I knew, we are at the cemetery and I stand there staring at the casket speechless. All I could say was rest in peace, I love you.

Now that time has passed and I have been able to think to myself, there is one positive that came out of the life changing decision: I now have a guardian angel looking down on me everyday, and protecting me. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about that week, and I how much I miss her and wish my family never had to make the decision we did, but it was for the best. Just because she passed away doesn’t mean she is gone, she will always be with me in every step of my life, good or bad. Plus, now that she’s in heaven, she can save me a spot up there next to her because when it’s my time to go, I’m going to give her a great big hug, tell her I love her and just listen.  Listen to the great stories that never get old no matter how many times I have heard them before, listen to what she has been up to, but most importantly just listen to her beautiful voice again...just like the good old days.