Didn't Care!

When I was twelve years old, I lost a person that I didn't even know. I haven't seen him in over ten years, when I was two years old was the last time I saw him. I never knew him, never talked to him or talked about him. They never wanted to talk about it. When I was twelve years old, I remember losing my soccer game,my dad getting a call from my mom saying that my grandfather was in hospice. At first, I didn't really care that much, I still went on with my life. Then, two days later after school my mom, my older sister Mackenzie, my little sister Presley, and my other older sister Samantha we went and visited him.

I walked in through the double doors, the reception desk lady gave me a sad smile, I walked past her and there was a fireplace and a little "hang out" area. I walked into the "hang out" area and saw three girls on one of the couches crying to each other. I heard them say something through their words it sounded like "he's dead." That is when I realized that the smell of the place was a mixture of death and depression, that's when I then realized that hospice is a place people come to die. I looked away from the crying girls and asked my mom what room number he was in. I walked to the room my mom told me, I stopped and looked at the number it said "205," I realized that this would probably be the last time that I would see him. I walked in looked at him, and tried to recognize the man that was laying in the hospital bed, nothing came to my mind. I realized that I don't remember anything that involves him. He was pale, barely breathing, waiting to die.

As I snap back into reality, I started balling my eyes out because I then thought of all the time that has passed. My mom started comforting me, but I couldn't take it anymore I walked out of the room and went outside and went on the walking trail they had. As I was walking I started to realize some other things as well, like he never wanted me in his life. I don't really think that he cared about me or any of my sisters, not my mom or my aunt, not my cousins, NOT EVEN MY GRANDMA! When I went back inside, his so called "wife" was in there, everyone said that she has bright yellow cat eyes. I thought that they were just joking, but when I walked in I saw that cat eyed lady acting like she "cared." When she wasn't in the hospital room, she was out drinking in a bar and probably flirting with other guys. Yet, she says that she "cares" but yet she goes and cheats on him, I wouldn't doubt that she does. I walked past my mother and sat down on the couch my Aunt Jill asked me if I was okay all I did was nod.

In the next few minutes, I stopped crying and took my six month old little sister Presley for a walk with me. We walked for a good ten to ­fifteen minutes. When we walked back in my great Aunt, Doris, was sitting there, crying at first I didn't recognize her, then I found out that I never met her before. She was really nice and she even invited my sisters and I to come over to her house and go swimming. Anyway, as I watched my grandfather lay in that hospital bed, it makes me even more scared of death than I was before. John (my mom's boyfriend) picked up Presley and took her home. We ended up staying the night out in the ̈hangout" area, for dinner we had Subway, it was really good.

The next morning, I woke up early because I couldn't sleep. My mom was already up,she was feeding Presley, I guess John had to work. I didn't go to school that day because my grandpa could've died in any minute. Some people went home, so when everyone was here we were all in the same room watching him, as the heart monitor made an annoying noise; it wasn't beeps anymore it was just like an annoying whistle sound. The nurse ran in and announced that he was dead and that there was nothing they could do. I remember crying so hard as my Aunt Jill saw me crying really hard and she came over to me and hugged me for a couple minutes, saying ̈it's okay he's in a better place now." 'shouldn't I be telling you that?' I thought. When they took his body out of the room I cried even harder. My little sister looked at me and I can just imagine her thinking 'why is she crying?'

When I was by myself I tried and tried to remember anything that came to my mind that I remember from when I was little with my grandpa. Nothing came to mind, Nothing at all. When it was time to leave, my mom, my sisters and I all piled into the car looking like emotional wrecks. She took me back to my dad's and the next day I went to school looking like an emotional wreck, my friends tried to cheer me up, I couldn't even think about what happened.

At the visitation, Everyone that could make it showed up, I walked over to my grandpa's dead body and started crying and stepped outside, sat on the curb and cried my eyes out. At the funeral, when they buried his body all I did was cry and cry. When we went home, I couldn't believe that I didn't even get to know the person that was just buried. As the tears streamed down my face, I was thinking that this couldn't be real that this was just a bad dream and I would wake up soon, but nope it wasn't a dream. On September 29, 2011 a part of me died with him, not a big part just a small one, since I never really knew him.

Three years later, as I write this, I wish that I could of talked to him, met him and remember the conversation. I never really cared until it was too late. The thing is I don't think he really cared me being in his life. He didn't care to know me. I mean the phone works
both ways, and it makes me angry to think that he never wanted me in his life, when I think about it like that I don't even care that I was never in his life! Thats the day I also realized that I will never be able to meet or talk with him.

Three years later, I realize that it's not my fault that I never met him. My grandma and my mom never wanted me to meet him because he was with the cat lady, I guess. They never really told me why I didn't ever get to meet him. I really wish that I could go back in time and meet him. That will never happen though.

Three years ago, I cried seeing him in that hospital bed waiting to die. I couldn't barely speak.

Three years ago, I cried because that would be the first and last time that I would see him in the last ten years. At the beginning of September, I didn't really care, but now that I think about it, I should have done or said something to someone. I realized that I wanted to meet him. I lost him. I lost my grandpa.

********Authors Note**********
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This is actually very true and yes it is about me.
So please don't take my work!
Thanks!

~~~ Cam~~~