I was always a good kid, I never complained about anything, I had loving parents who I got along with, friends, and a wonderful relationship with my grandfather. He was my best friend i could say, the one person I would go to for any situation. I was always grateful of everything in life. But just like that, everything I cared for, was taken away from me with a blink of an eye. I asked myself why was life so cruel. Why was life repaying me like this, what did I do so wrong. I hated everyone and everything that got in my way. I was so angry at everyone even if they weren't at fault for the tragedy that had left me sad and angry at the same time.

“He has a broken leg, and he can’t breathe much because of the airbag”,the nurse told the doctor as they rushed to get to somewhere.

“What is happening,” “Why does my body hurt? Where is my family? Can someone please tell me what’s happening,” I shouted but no one seemed to be able to hear me.

“Quick take the man into emergency”, “I will handle the kid.” shouted the stressed doctor.

I started to shake and pull away from them scared and not knowing what was happening in the time.  But then suddenly i blacked out. Everything was too much for me to handle. After about 10 minutes or so i woke up due to all the commotion of people talking, crying, and all these voices that sounded familiar to me. I then tried to pull myself u, but the pain was too much. Every bone and cell in my body was in absolute pain which i couldn't contain inside. I was scared.

“Mom, mom wha...what happen?”, I mumbled trying to find the right words.

“Baby, everything is okay, everything is going to be okay,” she tells me with her sweet and charming voice holding onto me so tightly.

I was so confused during this moment onto why my mom was crying. Nobody had told me anything i just had to fill in the puzzles all by itself until suddenly it had all hit me.

Papa, where is papa? I was with him in the car. We were on our way for some tacos for the family as we do every sunday after we had finished playing soccer. Our family would always come together and make a ton of fun memories. The music playing so loud and papa and I singing along to it so hard. I loved my papa and he was my best friend because I can always be myself around him. We were turning the corner to my house and everything happened within a blink of an eye. All i could remember was how my papa's hand hit my chest so fast and how i hit my head so hard, the airbag slowing it down. All I heard  was a ring,my face so bloody, it got in the way of my vision. I turned to look a papa. His head was laying on the steering wheel, his eyes closed.

“Papa..,” I whispered. He wouldn't reply.At this point, I am shaking uncontrollably as I manage to try and get out of the car. My door was stuck so I couldn’t manage to open the door. I could feel the blood dripping down my face. I was so dizzy from everything, the world was spinning all over the place for me.

I had finally remembered everything that had lead to us being in the hospital.

“Where’s papa?”, I historically call out to the room. Everyone looks at me with absolute silence.

“WHERE'S PAPA”, I screamed again crying.

“Son”, my dad holds me tight and whispers to me “Papa passed away in the crash”.

“What, I was just with him. I was just with papa. He can’t be dead there's no way. Someone tell me where he is. I want to see him. WHERE IS PAPA”, I scream pushing him off me trying to get off the bed.

A nurse runs into the room with a pointy needle right towards me. My father and mother hold me down as I’m pulling off them. The nurse injects me and just like the crash, I zoned out once again.

Life was so slow after the crash. I didn't care anymore. The one person I cared for the most in this world was taken away from me. I did everything people told me to do. Why? Because that's what I was told was the “right” thing to do. Well screw that. I was always good, and look how life repaid me. I’m done playing by the rules. I dont care anyone of anything or anyone.

I stayed in bed for as long as I can remember. Mom said the pain would start to fade away as time passed by. But how long will that take, this pain that's burning into my chest is killing me. All I wanted to do is be with my papa. I just wanted everything and everyone to leave me alone. What was the point of leaving if the one person I cared for is no longer alive.

I started hang out with the wrong crowd. They taught me things that made the pain go away for awhile. Made me forget about every stupid and stressful thing that was going on at that moment in my life. I knew they weren’t my real friends. I didn’t care for them, but more of what they gave me. My papa would smack me in the head if he knew what I was up to. But he’s not, and because of that I’m doing it. I know it’s bad to use him as the reason for my actions but who else would I blame.

After hanging out with my “friends”, after smoking, the real world would smack me in the face. Those were the hardest days. When I didn’t have pot on me to make me feel better. When I had to deal with this pain all alone.

It’s been around 2 months since my papa has passed away, and I haven’t cried, not once. Not at his funeral, not at the hospital not even when I came home that day. I was more dead than alive this whole time.

One day my mom and dad sat me down at the living room table.

“We got your grades today,” my dad looked so disappointed at me, “what are you doing to yourself huh?”

“Son” my mom whispered as she places her hand on my lap, “we get that your grandfather's death impacted you, it impacted us all. But we need you to get your life together. Life continues with or without anyone.”

“Are you guys serious, Mom he was your father. Can you have a little more respect for him. He was there for me when you guys weren’t. He was my best mate. I will never be able to talk to him,” I shouted.

“We just want our son back! This is not who you use to be,”my father stands up shouting back at me.

“Well he’s dead, just as papa is. I’m so sick of everyone telling me what I have to do. Look where that got me. I always did what everyone wanted me to. AND MY PAPA IS DEAD. Why couldn’t I die with him.” I screamed holding back my tears because I will not let myself get that weak.

“You need to stop using his death as an excuse to act like a punk!” My father shouted.

“Screw you, if you think I would ever use him as an excuse to act this way you’re real messed up. I’m done with you, and with everyone.” I said getting up and shoving my father out of my way.

I ran, I ran as fast as I can. Why is this happening to me, why was my papa taken away from me. Why has the world repaid me like this. I have done nothing but good. He should have not died he was good man, a man who was always there for me when I needed a hand. He was there when my mom was in the hospital. He was there when both my parents worked late nights to keep a roof over my head. WHY WAS THIS HAPPENING TO ME. I just want him back.

I collapsed to the ground out of air, out of passion to live. I start to scream

“WHYYY, WHYYY HIM, WHY NOT ME” tears running down my face. This is the first time I cry since he’s died. “Papa please come back, please papa come back, I’ll be a good kid again. I promise papa” I whisper to him, to the world. I can’t, I can’t do this anymore without him. “TAKE ME,TAKE ME WITH YOU PAPA, please.”

I don’t know what else to do. This pain has taken absolute control over my life. I can’t deal with this anymore. Everything and anything I do won’t be able to cure this damage in my heart. And I can’t keep living like this any longer.

I walk, and walk for hours it seems. I come across a field. I’m so tired. I lay in the grass. Then I turn my head and see a soccer ball. I pick it up and I start kicking it. I played for hours. I was tired but it seemed as if this was the only thing keeping me close to my papa. My papa told me stories of when he was young and played. I loved his stories. How his team won the championship. Playing soccer felt so good. I felt like I was close to him. Even if he wasn’t right next to me, I know he’s right by my side. My Papa would be so proud of me right now.

I continued playing soccer. It was the one time I felt the presence of my papa. When I was in the field. It was the ball, me and papa. No one else, no one else mattered. I found my passion to live again. This was what had changed my life once again. But this time for the better.  I will not let papa down. Not anyone. I found a reason to live again.