It was St. Patrick's Day, I had skipped school to enjoy the day in the city with my friends and later that night I received a text that shattered my heart into a million pieces.

"My father passed today.” Meaning my uncle, finally, was no longer suffering. Those four tiny words caused my body to curl into a little ball and repeatedly ask Him, “why?”

It was a day that everyone knew was going to come sooner or later, but we all wanted it to be later. Way later. Bad things have happened to me in my life before but nothing seemed as horrible as this. There's a saying that goes "the good die young, because God needs them.” But why does God need MY uncle when hundreds of people need him HERE? Thought it was kind of selfish if you asked me.

I went through the first two of the five stages of grief immediately.

Stage one: Denial.

This stage went rather quick, I’d say. About five hours. I laid in my room, staring at the ceiling in the dark. No tears, no emotion. I just kept saying, this can't be true. He did no wrong in his life, he can't be taken so quick.

Stage 2: Anger

This took place the morning after. I went to school, and didn't say one word. Multiple times throughout the day I was asked what was wrong and why I looked so furious. I never been the one to speak about my feelings out loud. And I've never dealt with a death that hit me so hard, so I didn't know how to handle it. Until mid-day, I broke out in hysterical tears.

I've kind of skipped the bargaining and depression stage. Of course, I was heartbroken and still am, but that's not what he would've wanted me to feel. I just have to constantly remind myself that he's okay and no longer suffering. As for the last step, acceptance, I don't think anyone will ever reach that. I definitely won't. That stage is a myth, you don't accept it, it just starts hurting a little less with time.

People die everyday, I just never thought it’d affect me personally. My uncle was one of the greatest men to walk this earth. Everyone says that but I truly mean it in every possible way. (So many people showed up to his wake that all the chairs were taken, room was overflown & some couldn't even get into the room). He was genuine, did good for the world and he was always positive. He’d get very upset if you said you couldn't do something, he always wanted you to believe in yourself. He told the cheesiest jokes, but would constantly have EVERYONE unable to breathe from laughing to hard. My favorite characteristic about him was that never failed to remind you how beautiful were. You could've met him once for an hour, and within that hour he made you feel like the most beautiful and important person in the world. He was a truly incredible person.

Although I'm still in utter and shock and sadness that he's gone, I'm unbelievably grateful for his last words to me, that I will never forget.

“My baby, I'm so proud of you. You've grown to be a beautiful young lady, I love you so much.”

Before I finish, I got three last words:

Fuck you, cancer.