I wish I had one more chance to conversate with my grandpa. Then I would explain to him everything I didn’t say the day we visited him at the hospital bed in critical condition.

We would go over with our two furry, ebony dogs, pound on his door and wait for him to open the door, and when he did, he would always have a big pearly smile on his face. He would have sticky, oily, bacon treats for the dogs, and he would allow me to give it to them. He was really caring, and his world just lit up when he heard the dogs on the door. He adored them like they were his own babies.

Two years ago I was home from school with the flu. I sat at home, thinking life couldn’t be any worse--until that phone call from the school. My mom told me, “Some kids at the school discovered your grandpa on the cold, snowy ground in the school area where he usually walked.” She also told me, “He had another heart attack, and they called the ambulance; so he is on his way to the hospital.”

I stated, “He’ll be fine.” It has happened two or three times before, so I thought he would survive one more time.
Later that day, my grandma called, “You two have to get to the hospital fast!” When we arrived at his hot, sterile room, we viewed our grandma sobbing in front of the plush, creamy bed and Grandpa lying in bed in critical condition. I saw tubes hanging from the ceiling, and his heartbeat monitor went beep, beep, beep. Seeing my grandma cry like that left me feeling like a hurt puppy. I looked at him once and then went out of the room because I didn’t want to cry, but I did. I cried. It was too much for me. Just the thought of him leaving had me crying like a newborn baby. I knew he was in safe hands, and it was better for him this way. It was difficult to see him die at a hospital bed, but it was comforting to see him surrounded by his loved ones, to see how many people that cared about him. But something inside of me didn’t want it to end this way. ‘Maybe this is the last time. Maybe there is never going to be another time,’ I thought. I was convinced that this was it, him lying in bed, waiting for his soul to depart his body and later vanish to heaven. At least, that’s what we thought, and we still do.
The nurses handed my mother some paper that talked about funeral arrangements. She handed them to me. I read them to myself in tears thinking, ‘I don’t want to lose my grandpa!’

That same night, my mom and I went home. My dad stayed a bit longer since it was his dad. The following day my grandfather passed away.

If I had one wish, one wish, I would like to talk to my grandpa again and tell him everything that has transpired until this day. I would tell him everything I didn’t say that day--everything from finishing junior high to my plans for the future.