Growing up, my grandpa was always there for me. Me and my grandpa were really close. We did everything together: we watched TV together, argued together, and hung out together. We would go to stores, parks, and beaches. We would sometimes debate on sports games like what team would win. I would pick a team and he would have the opponent and the winner could brag about their team winning. We did that with football, drag racing, and even the Olympics. Also we used to go to an event they do in Lowell every year where everyone with motorcycles drives down the boulevard. That was one of my favorite things we did together.

As I was getting older I got more responsibilities. I was responsible for making my grandpa’s cereal, chicken, whatever he wanted to eat, even desserts and coffee. We were still as close as ever. My grandpa could barely walk and he needed canes if he had to walk, so he slept sitting up on the couch. He was overweight and had gout in his legs, but that didn't stop him from bringing me and my little siblings everywhere,  like one time he took me to a monster truck rally. He would take me to the parks, the stores, anywhere I wanted to go he would take me. It made me feel good going out with him all the time because my parents were not often home.

He came from a different generation. He could be brutally honest. Like one time he was helping me with homework and I kept getting the question wrong. He would call me stupid. While it hurt at first, I also learned to take that criticism and build on it and focus more in school. He would make comments about people of different identities that I didn’t agree with, and didn’t agree on everything, but I would also listen to try to understand his point of view.

Last year, when I was 17, my mom and my little sisters were getting ready to go to my girlfriend's birthday party. I was downstairs waiting in the living room  sitting and talking to my grandpa. And my little sister who was with my mom in the bathroom doing her hair. She came out with her bright red dress and her hair done. My grandpa saw her and started telling her, “you're so beautiful.” He told her she looked like a Spanish dancer.

But then, all of sudden, minutes later, he started shaking. I screamed for my mom and she called 911. Ten minutes went by and I could see my grandpa getting more and more pale. We were all too shocked to react to what was happening in front of our faces. The ambulance and firefighters came. They struggled to get him on the stretcher because my grandpa weighed 400 pounds. Watching him get carried out just made the pain even worse.

We followed the ambulance to the hospital and waited in the waiting room for two hours with no updates. Then a doctor came out to inform us my grandpa was gone. I felt hurt and mad at the whole world. My best friend and grandpa all in one was gone.

My grandpa was what held our house together. My mom would be out working two jobs. My grandma worked at Walmarts so no one could watch us besides my grandpa but now that he is gone I had to step up and watch my siblings and do anything that needs to be done in the house.  At first it was hard to believe he was gone. I was going to school and I just couldn't focus. I was starting to fail a couple classes.

But my grandpa used to say, “every soldier has his day.” That one quote got me through so much, he helped to teach me how to accept death. Growing up I experienced a lot of deaths around me that changed me and made me stronger. Life has been hard but these experiences and my grandpa and all he taught me has made me stronger.

© Damian. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.