Change. Either you fight it or you make the most out of it.

Backstory

           I sat quietly in the shotgun seat of my grandmothers Jeep watching the road get sucked back behind us as she drove down to Kentucky from Indiana. The radio was playing loud so I couldn't hear my sister whine because she didn't like the station, it was classic rock. Of course she's too young to appreciate good music (at least that's what my dad always said). I tried my hardest to block out my thoughts, the same thing kept running through my mind.  I must've accidentally let a tear fall from my eye because my grandmother put her hand on my knee and shook it saying "it'll be alright thea. I know it hurts. Hurts me too." I let a couple more tears out and wiped them away trying to be strong.
Usually I would absolutely love going to Kentucky with grandma. The "fresh" county air and the southern drawl, not to mention my grandmas garden. Mmm-mmmm the best tomatoes and beans around! But this time, it hurt. This time, I wasn't coming back.
        Here's why...
        my dad died a week ago. He was at work and fell off a barn he was building. I got a call to the office in the middle of 5th period. The lady there who told me was crying. She could barely speak, she was a close friend of my dads. All my teachers were.  My dad made a will type thing so if he died, we'd go live with grandma.  That's why we're going 300 miles down to Kentucky.  I miss every one, but no one more than I miss my dad. He was my best friend, we done everything together. I can't imagine my life without him.