The day my grandfather died was actually the saddest day of my life. This is because as a child, I lived with my grandfather. Since I was living with him, my grandfather not only became the most important person in my life, but he was also my best friend with whom I shared my happier times and my sad times. Each time thoughts of my grandfather crossed my mind, I got a warm feeling in my heart, but all that changed the moment I received the saddest news that completely confused me; the news of my grandfather’s death. To make things worse, I did not even know that my grandfather was gravely ill because my mom and cousins had chosen not to tell me. I was sitting for my end-of-semester exams around the same time that he became ill.
I can still recall that fateful Thursday morning when my cousin arrived at the college’s residential hall where I was staying. He did not actually tell me what was happening, but from his hesitant voice, I could tell that something was terribly wrong. About an hour later, my mother also came, and it was she who clearly told me that my grandfather had actually passed away. Even though my mother told me the sad news with a soothing tone, I still did not believe her. I asked them to accompany me to my grandfather’s home. The one hour journey to my grandfather’s house felt like an eternity. I kept wishing my mother would drive faster and faster towards my grandfather’s house. As we headed towards his home, the memories of the many happy moments we spent together kept crossing my mind and as the thoughts kept coming, I could not help but to feel some intense sadness as tears freely rolled down my cheeks. It is only when I got to my grandfather’s house and realized that he was neither there to welcome us nor was he anywhere in the house that it truly hit me that my grandfather was indeed dead. Death had robbed me of a true friend….