This is something I wrote about my grandpa a couple days after he passed away unexpectedly.
He's Gone
It felt weird, walking into the television room the other day. I went in there to get away from the confusing atmosphere and family members, but I had forgotten exactly what had went down in that very room 10 hours earlier.
I had this feeling in my chest that was absolutely haunting. I looked at the handprint on the couch from when he fell and I couldn't help but imagine how it all happened. I felt like I was there and paramedics were rushing through me as they pulled out supplies. I could see him lying there on the floor where my grandma had found him, his head against the heat register.
I had to leave the room.
Somehow that room wasn't the best place to be when I was wanting to escape the whole ordeal. What was I thinking?
Now, every time I walk into that room, I think of him. I think of the hours he must've spent in there, the pain he endured. But I don't think of it as a terrible thing. He's free of that pain now and I imagine him sitting with me sometimes at the far end of the couch. He's happy now because he's with the Lord.
YOU ARE READING
The Flower Girl
Random"Write what you know" -my grandma [and probably a bunch of other people] *** *** This is just where I post things I've written. They're all from the heart and unedited.
