Heading my way over to the structure that was built with love and it suddenly does not feel the same as before. Something is missing from it, something important. I walk into the empty feeling household and see my Grandpa crying in his chair. What do I say to him, I am lost for words. He looks at me with those water filled eyes, "Quincy I have something for you". I walk to the vacant room and on the untouched bed is a big box of diamonds and pearls. I start to search through these riches and find a ring that catches my eye. This circular object is 14K gold with a diamond heart in the center. I place the piece of gold around my finger and it seems as if it is a perfect fit. This tiny piece of treasure belonged to a women I loved deeply. The ring will always be apart of me and without it I feel lost.

    I am left empty while I stand in the hallway thinking about all the memories we have shared. I feel broken and there is no repair to this disposition. A puzzle piece has gone missing that makes life all come together, but I have lossed her. I stare into the house that no longer feels the same as before, I start to drift into oblivion. I trail through the halls of this deserted place and look at the pictures hanging on the wall. Each photograph has a pleasant memory built into my mind. I look to the side of me and notice the vacant room and with a sliver of the unused bed peeking through the doorway. At the end of the bed is a box of her treasures that I know I have to search through. I stand in this hall paralyzed because I know once I enter that room the hardest part will come, sorting through her belongings.

    The bedroom feels empty. No one can really experience the definition of that till the thing that makes it full is gone. I sit on the end of the bed that was onced used every night. As she would lay, her body heat kept the bed warm and now it is left chilled. I notice cat hair scattered around the sheets and remember the stories she would tell about the cats keeping her company at night. I wonder if they sit in bed and wait for her to return. To the left of me is her tidy dresser. My brother and I’s school pictures lay in a frame with a poem I made in eighth grade next to it. Looking down I notice the drawers in the dresser that were once opened everyday has now narrowed down to not opened at all. The small spotless bathroom is untouched since that last time she has used it. I look to my right and peek inside the useless closet. The clothes are beginning to be packed up, and I spot her favorite pink and white sweater hung up on the rale. This room is filled with all of these objects but it is missing the key factor to make it feel alive again.

    I remember one day I went over to visit her, and little did I know it was one of the last times. I can recall this certain day just like it was yesterday. We lay next to each other on the fluffy carpeted floor. I can feel her love transfer through the fur on the carpet and hit me, a feeling I would yearn to feel again. We are talking about how our days have been going and what things I have been up to. Same topic of conversation when I visit, we always talk about me. I look at her, “Grandma why don’t we talk about you? What you have been up to!?”. A smile beamed across her face and she tells me to look at her toes. For a second I questioned what she was talking about; however, I eventually just looked down. Her long toes had neatly painted toenails, the color of cherries. She tells me that for the first time in her life she had received a pedicure. I was surprised to find this out, she had so much life and never seized the chance to get one. She continues to tell me how pleasant it was when the lady was rubbing her course feet. Grandma told me someday we will get our nails done together.

    Her curly short grey hair is being poked by a pick that she claims, “makes her hair stay up”. In my head I question this method but eventually just go along with her gullible soul. Her skinny frail body walks back and forth in the kitchen making sure my hunger and thirst are fulfilled. She asks me every ten minutes if I am okay and/or if I need anything. My response would always remain the same. When I am with her she makes me the priority, make sure I was having fun at her house. We play unexciting games, hang with the cats, and color abstract color pages. She always is looking for something to do, never can sit still. She kept up with her gardens and took pride in the flowers and vegetables she grew. Always constantly making my favorite dessert of hers, tapioca pudding. We sit at the kitchen counter for hours eating our pudding and talking about life. I admire her giant smile laid out across her face, this smile seemed as if it never went away. She was always a curious lady, but all in good ways. The joy she brought upon this world was incredible. My Grandma was never rude, always treated people with respect, and always looked at the glass half full. When obstacles came her way she tried her hardest to defeat them even if they did take a tole over her small frail body.

    This ring I found of my Grandma’s will always be apart of me. When she comes to my mind I think about the time we laid on the floor and talked about her pedicure, the way her room is arranged in a neatly maner, her constant checking up on me, and the poking of her curly grey hair. This women never let an obstacle defeat her mentally. She brought joy to everybody’s life. The house that she left behind will not longer feel the same, but she did leave many memories with it. My puzzle piece has gone missing, but I found something that will always keep me close to her even if she is not physically here. I have my Grandma’s ring that will always be apart of who I am.