About a month ago I got a phone call from my mom. She was crying. I knew what she had to say wasn’t good. My grandpa had been to the doctor that week to check on his vision and some pain he was experiencing. He had 6 months to live. It didn’t hit me at first. I didn’t even start to cry. I had heard so many miraculous stories of patients proving the doctors wrong. They always outlived their prognosis. Last week I realized my grandpa wouldn’t be one of these miraculous patients.

He was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic brain cancer. It was killing his mind fast. At Christmas there weren’t any signs of memory loss or confusion, but in 3 weeks he was no longer allowed to be left alone. He was admitted into the hospital last week and I went to see him. I was not ready for the overflow of emotions that I would face, because it still hadn’t sunk in. My youngest brother cried through the whole visit, and fortunately my grandpa didn’t know why. It was at that moment that I realized how much I took the time left with him for granted. There was so much I didn’t know about his life before he became a grandpa and I knew he would never get to tell me now.

I drove myself home in tears. I am not sure how I made it back home alive. I wasn’t just crying, I was punch-the-steering-wheel screaming “WHY?” and “THIS ISN’T FAIR!”bawling. You know the ugly kind that you don’t want anybody to see; the kind where you can’t catch your breath and your head hurts for hours afterwards. He didn’t deserve this. No one deserves to lose their mind in that way. I could only blame God. How could He let this happen to my grandpa? He is a good man. The kind of man that slows down for squirrels to pass and doesn’t honk at people who cut him off, even if his grandkids are begging him to. So if God can heal, why wasn’t He healing my grandpa? If you think the rest of this article is about me finding the answer to that question, it's not; I am still searching. And I am still trying to let go of the anger and confusion I am holding on to.

I visited him a few more times over the next few days and he seemed so good. He knew exactly who I was and was showering me with compliments. I held his hand a lot and rubbed his leg and he would nod in and out of sleep. I still held hope in my heart that he would pull through. I hated having to go back to school where I would be away from him. I wanted to spend every second there in that hospital room.

We weren’t the kind of close that called every day, sometimes we would even go weeks without seeing each other. But we had that unspoken closeness; the kind where you can almost read each other’s thoughts. I know everything he did for me and my brothers and I am so grateful for his love and support. Even in his bed last weekend he told me not to worrying about being away from him while I was at school, he told me to go make something of myself. He asked me to take him up to my school one day and show him around. I won't get to do that.

Writing this I have a steady stream of tears rolling down my face. They are likely here to stay for awhile. I got another heartbreaking phone call from my mom tonight. Six months has turned into ten days. I am going to lose my grandpa. There is nothing I can do, but sit and wait. I still don’t see why God lets bad things happen to good people. I am trying to hold onto my faith and come up with reasons as to why this is happening, but deep down I know I never will. I am going to lose my grandpa and I am not ready to let go. He won’t get to come to my wedding and he won’t get to meet my children. Everyone loses their grandparents, but when you realize those huge things that they won’t get to be a part of, it makes it hurt worse.

I am going to lose my grandpa and I am not ready to let go. But I can find comfort knowing he can watch me anytime. He will have front row seats to watch me make something of myself. He will be with me as I accomplish all of my goals one by one. I am going to lose my grandpa, but I am going to win for him.