Grandpa In a stark room with the lights turned out, I sit alone thinking. In all of my years I have always had stability. There have been no drastic changes in my life. There was the endless time when my mother had breast cancer, but somehow I knew she would pull through, so it did not really phase me. Now I am encountering a situation that is sure to change my life forever. The one person who never questioned my intentions, always knew my thoughts, and always knew the right words to offer is going to leave me because of a terminal illness. As I wonder how I will ever survive without my grandpa in my life, I place my head in my hands and cry as memories and stories begin to flood my mind.
The first memory I come across is swinging with Grandpa on a hill overlooking a beautiful lake at sunset.
Grandpa has his coffee in his right hand while I am snuggled up close to his left side. I recall using times such as this to have heart-to-heart talks with the sole person who understood my every thought. He talked to me as if everything I had to say was of great importance, regardless of the topic. As I reflect more on this memory I realize my grandpa is a lot like the coffee he always had in his hand. The coffee provided him with warmth and comfort. In the same way, Grandpa was my source of warmth and comfort. He was always there for me in little ways. The days when Dad forgot me at volleyball practice he was there to take me home. He was there to take me shopping when I desperately needed a new outfit. He did not like to shop,