August 17, 2008. Less than one month before I was to start the fifth grade, my grandfather and my best friend passed away. I could tell you all the great things about him. I could tell you about the bond we had with each other. I could tell you about my best memories with him, like him letting me drink Red Bull or sneaking into his room at night so I could watch TV. I could tell you about him stealing my food, and me wrestling him to get it back. I could tell you everything I loved about him.

I could tell you about how he came over to the United States from Vietnam after I was born and helped my parents take care of me. I could tell you about his dedication and hard working spirit. I could tell you about all of the jokes and laughs that we shared. But, I won't. Instead, I'm going to tell you how not being able to experience these things for the last nine years has changed me into the person that I am now.

My grandfather passed away from an aortic aneurysm. For those who don't know what that is, it's a dilation of the aorta. Usually, the aorta shows no symptom until it bursts. Doctors performed surgery on him, but it was unsuccessful. I remember waiting in the lobby of the hospital while my grandmother, parents, and aunt stayed with him in the intensive care unit. My father came down to bring me upstairs to say my final goodbyes--except at the moment, I didn't know. My last memory of him is seeing wires and tubes connected to him. Being only ten years old, it was quite frightening for me. At the time, I didn't understand what was going on. That next morning, I was told that he had passed away overnight. Since then, my life has been completely different.

There was one less card to send out on Father's Day. There was one less seat filled at graduation. There was one less present under the Christmas tree. There was one less person to tell me how proud they were of me. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about my grandfather. Besides my dad, he was the most important man in my life. When times get rough, I can only hope that I'm making him proud.

Although these past years have been tough, losing my grandfather has taught me so much. Not having my grandfather here showed me that moving on doesn't mean forgetting. It means understanding and accepting. Not having him here has been painful, but I am so thankful for the time that we shared.

Ong Noi, I miss you more than anything. I hope I'm making you proud. Maybe we'll see each other again someday, I love you so much.