My long, black suit hanging over my wrist and ankles. Depression weighing over me. I wanted to throw up. I felt like I just died 100 times.

I walked up the steps to the white, gloomy house. I stepped in and saw friends and family but none were talking. The boys were quiet, not saying anything. The women’s makeup was dripping down their faces. “Finn, don’t look”. She walked around the corner of the room. My mom was strong but she was obviously hiding her tears. Disobeying her order, I looked around the corner. There he was.

He was pale and looked cold. His body not even making the slightest movement. In my head, all that was playing was my great memories with him. I wasn’t sad, angry, mad or even a little bit happy. I was nothing. I was empty. He made me want to curl up and die. The worst part was I didn’t even say goodbye. Should I kill myself? Should I join him? No. I love him but I need to be strong for my mom.

He was closed in the casket and I stepped into the black limo. The limo brought us to this restaurant downtown. The burial was a blur as I tried to block out as much as I could. The restaurant was the only place people actually talked and showed joy! How could you pretend that nothing ever happened? Aaargh!

I ran out of the restaurant and behind to a dark alley. The tears blurred my eyes. The wet, salty tears fell into my mouth. The tears blinding me. I hit a pipe with my face. I sat down. Pain in my head, tears rushing down my face. The downtown alley smelled like cigarettes and low tide. The beeps and screeches of cars echoed down the alley.
Then there he was. Standing before me, health, tall and a wide smile on his face. I ran into his welcoming arms. We embraced and tears of joy ran down my face. “Goodbye, Grampy. I’ll miss you and love you forever.”