Dead. It was shocking, not at all what was on my mind, but, it sure was now. Dead. Sure, it was expected, but it almost didn't feel real. Dead. My grandfather, was dead. The worst part? It almost felt like nothing happened. All this, happening in the comfort of my home.

Yes, of course, I have a heart. I was horrified. Someone you know, you've known since you were born, someone who really was always there, just, gone? It almost felt unrealistic. If you couldn't tell, it was my first experience with death, it was never something I considered, never someone on my mind. But there, it happened. My father was devastated, as he should be. You father for about 50 years of your life, just gone? Of course that must be the worst feeling. And my mother as well. Although not biologically related, he had known him for a good part of her life, so of course it was going to be hard on her. My brother, as strong of a guy as he is, cracked. Him being older than me, he had known him for all of his life. But me, 11 at the time, it should have hit me, right? But surprisingly, almost as shocking as the event at hand, I had not yet shown emotion. And I was almost embarrassed to show that I had been almost unfazed. Maybe it hasn't set in. Maybe I have to wait a while. That must be it.

As days past, I found that my father had emailed my teachers, letting them know that my grandfather had recently passed away, and to let them know if I had started breaking down in class, it were to be expected. Of course, I was blessed to have such caring teachers, filling me in on how to deal with grief, and how everything would be fine. The reassuring additive of the teachers was very nice of them, but I have now only felt more guilty for not being as emotional as I should have been. What was wrong with me. So, I go about my day, minding to myself, appreciating the help, sadly, not needing it.

As the days progressed, it has gotten closer to the day; the funeral. As cousins began to get to our home, we had our greetings, monotone for everyone. And obviously everyone was a mess, but I couldn't blame them. They had a very close relationship with the man. And now I realized, as they discussed experiences, that I never really had done all the things my older cousins had. Because I was the youngest cousin, by a good margin, I didn't experience half the stuff my other cousins did; and I made it my mission to get closer with him, even in with the fact in mind that it may not matter regardless. So, between then and the funeral, I had heard a multitude of stories about my grandfather.

My Grandfather was a hands on man, and really never was there when something needed fixing. So, one day, he had a plan. There was a burned down lot in Pennsylvania, and he knew exactly what to do with it. I was told that he spent a long time out there, but once he was finished, he had practically built a home from the ground up, and we annually went to this house, as it really was a nice and impressive home. But all good things had to come to an end, and a few years before my birth, the house was sold.

Another story I heard was less of a memorable story, and more of a story to show how much he was there for us. When we were very little, we being me and my brother, we were always cared for by my grandfather, that is when my parents weren't around. He had the biggest heart, and always went out of his way for his grandchildren, and that felt like that really touched me to hear that.

The wake was finally here, and I got to see pictures of him. Pictures from many years ago, and pictures relatively recent. He looked much different than now, and that's obviously from age. But I got to see the joy in his eyes. The genuine joy of hold us, of playing with us, of interacting with his grandchildren. And the feeling was mutual, as we were also always excited to be with him. And an effect like that on people doesn't just happen, it's earned, and every single time, it was as if he didn't just earn it, he did more than he needed, and kept going. That is a powerful thing a person can do.

The day is here. It's the last morning before this journey comes to an end, and I still haven't gotten emotional to a level of tears. I have gotten to know him better, heard his stories, and even gotten closer to the man, but still, nothing. The day progresses, all the ceremonies around me, and it almost doesn't affect me; and then, it's over. He is put away. And that's when the situation hits me. The whole thing, like a slap across the face. Dead. My grandfather is dead. And I let down a single tear, a tear of sorrow, a tear of regret, a tear of anger. A tear from my emotions. A tear for grandpa.

In the months following his passing, I’ve gotten much closer to my family. I now know and understand that you don’t know what you really have, till you don’t have it. For the rest of my life I will cherish this message as my own. I need to appreciate, not only family, but everything in life. Especially things that are only there for short periods of time, because I will only have myself for my whole life. And that's the most important message anyone can take out of not only my story, but their own story. Love you grandpa, rest in peace.