March 27, 2013 was a brisk day and one I’ll never forget. Cody and I pulled up to the Methodist church on highway 71, in small town Park Rapids, at around nine o’clock in our green Honda Accord. The car ride was silent for the eight or so miles that we had to drive. We were about to face one of the biggest nightmares that we had tried to forget about for the past week since we heard the terrible news. Just one week prior on March 20, 2013, my mom brought us into her room as it was time to be getting ready for school.

She said, “There’s something I need to tell you two.”
“Grandpa’s dead!” I cried out before she could finish the sentence.

I burrowed my face into my parents’ pillows as the tears streamed, unsure of if I wanted to face my classmates for the day. Cody remained silent; his brown eyes glistened with tears, but one never escaped. He left the room to get ready for school while I sat and reflected on the news that was shared with me. I tried to pretend it was all just a dream. His last words to Cody and me a week earlier, lingered in my mind.

"I wish I could have one more day with you."

I didn’t want to go to the funeral, but there I was, walking into the huge open space. I tried to hold back the tears, but when my grandma hugged me, it was like she squeezed them right out. We all had known this day would come for the past four years, but I still wasn’t ready to accept it; not yet anyway. I walked over to the pictures, to give me one last fading memory of him. My favorite one was taken two weeks prior. It had both my grandparents, Cody, and me in it. Cody stood next to my grandma wearing his Panther hockey coat and I had on my pink Aeropostale sweatshirt next to my grandpa. My grandpa was short compared to me from his back being hunched over. That was one of the last days I got to spend with him before cancer took his last breath.

There was a steady flow of people that came as I remained by the pictures. My throat felt as if it was swelling from holding back the tears as I watched many sad faces hug my family. I tried to occupy my mind by fiddling with the red carnation that was pinned crookedly on my black dress. I began to focus on the crowd streaming in.

The ceremony seemed to last an eternity.

I tried to sit through it all solemnly, but I wasn’t strong enough. When my grandpa’s favorite song, ‘On Eagles Wings’, started to play, I lost it. After the song ended, the guards folded the flag for my grandma and I was able to brave through most of the tears.The trumpet was played beautifully after they finished folding it and yet again I felt my throat swelling up from holding back tears. I stared at my grandma and wondered how she could help from crying at that moment; it took everything in me not to and it had to be harder for her.

At the very end, those who wore a flower went to the front and laid it on the urn. My fingers trembled when I tried to unpin mine, poking myself in the process. The petals were smooth and my hands sweaty. It was Cody's and my turn to go up. I focused on the ground because I didn’t want to look any of the guests in the eye. On my way back to the pew I tripped on the slight slant of the aisle and wanted to cry even harder from embarrassment. I wanted it to be over. I wanted it to all be a dream.

When it ended, we headed over to the banquet room for lunch. I ate very little and watched as people slowly emptied out and offered many hugs to my family. I was all out of tears it seemed. I was ready to go to school and forget the previous hours of the day.

Even to this day, I have to choke back tears when I talk about the event, but I know that he is in a better place. I have great memories of him, yet there are major ones that will be forever missing. He'll never see me graduate or glow on my wedding day. He will never get to see me succeed in life or get to see my own family grow, but these are things that I have grown to accept.

I’ve learned to also cherish the time I have with my loved ones. We have a lifetime with each other, but a lifetime can vary. I never know when I will have to say goodbye to another loved one and have learned to love every minute I have with them; even when we argue. Nothing much has to be said, but being in their presence is enough.