Colorful leaves rustle in the wind and flutter throughout the sky as they fall off of the small trees they once clung to, scattering throughout the schoolyard. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep them from chilling and walk beside my sister out into the busy parking lot. It was Friday. Kids chatter, and laugh as they push open the heavy metal doors, breaking through the % barrier of the school, and out into the freedom of the weekend. Smiles fill their faces, while worry fills mine. After a small drive home, my sister Mady and I arrived, finding our house quiet and empty. There was a note on the table from our parents, reminding us that our grandpa was in the hospital again.

“We love you, stay strong. Here's some cash if you need anything.” Mady finished reading the note aloud, and set it down on the table where it once lay. The conversations between my sister and I were short and empty, all the way until we both laid down in our parent’s bed and fell asleep. Saturday felt like such a blur, time went by so fast, % like cars on an interstate, and then it all came to a halt. The phone rang *loudly, I picked it up and my mom’s voice filled my head, the worry prominent in her voice.

Before I knew it, Mady and I were in the car and rushing our way to Grand Forks to see our family, but most importantly our grandpa. The car ride, which would normally be filled with excitement and happy conversation, was filled with silence and worry. Two hours later, we finally made it to my grandma’s house.

I sat in the back of my grandma’s gray Cadillac, alone gazing out the window. My mom drove carefully down the freshly paved road, my sister sitting beside her in the passenger seat. The leather seat was cold on the backs of my legs. I *looked out at the town I found so familiar, but I felt such an unfamiliar feeling; I was scared, numb, and almost nauseous all at once.  As I glanced out at the town I hold so closely to my heart, anticipating seeing my grandpa in a hospital bed, weak, and ill, I *felt a hot tear stream down my face, the first tear I had cried since he got sick.

We arrived at the hospital after the short drive from my grandma’s house. I walked beside my mom and sister along the neatly paved sidewalk. We reached the large automatic doors and with hesitation they slid open revealing the tidy hospital display. A receptionist at one of the front desks gave the three of us a big smile.
#  “How are you doing today,”  she asked, “are you here for an appointment? Or…?”

“We’re good. No appointments today, no, but could you please tell us where we could find the Intensive Care Unit?”  my mom replied with a forced smile.

! The receptionist looked at our somber faces and with a look of sympathy, she told us which hallways to go down, which elevators to take, which floor to go to. So many directions, yet I’ve never felt so lost.

As we rode up the spacious elevator, it felt as if it would continue to rise and rise with no end. Finally, our ride came to a stop. The elevator doors parted ways exposing the empty hospital hallway behind them. There at the end of the long and empty hallway, stood my dad; it had been over a week since I last saw him. I could see his pain from all the way across the hallway. He turned and looked our way, and let out a small sigh of relief, and a slight smirk, his eyes shining like diamonds as they filled with tears. Tears had fallen from my eyes all throughout that Sunday morning, but when I gazed at my dad from across the hallway, I lost control. My body became weak, my eyes welled up with tears and I began to sob. I ran down the hallway, leaving my sister and my mom behind me. As I ran, the tears flew down my cheeks faster and faster, hitting my lips, and running down my neck, leaving a salty * taste in my mouth. As I finally approached my dad, I jumped into his arms. He held me, and together we cried. My dad and my grandpa had an unexplainable bond. Knowing my dad was about to lose his best friend, his father, and knowing I had to witness it all, and say my last words to my grandpa, broke my heart into a million pieces.

“Your grandpa wants to talk to the both of you before the doctor’s stop his medication,” my dad said to my sister and I, “Are you ready to see him?”

I pumped the hospital’s hand sanitizer into the palm of my hand, a * whiff of alcohol and antiseptic filled my nose. I got myself together as best I could and walked into the room. My grandpa laid in his hospital bed, weak and fragile, just as I had expected. My aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandma filled the room around us. He looked up at us with a slight smile, his nasal respirator shifting slightly. We each took our turns speaking with him, and finally it was mine. He grabbed my hand.

“Hey you, please don’t cry. You behave yourself, keep smiling and laughing, and don’t let any of those boys that are after you hurt you, okay? Keep working hard in school, and hockey. Make me proud.  I love you, my pretty girl.”

His voice was quiet and weak. My heart hurt knowing that these were some of the last words I would hear from him, but I knew I would never forget them. Tears endlessly streamed down my face, I couldn’t stop them no matter how hard I tried.

The nurses wheeled him to the elevator where we would go down a few floors to his very own hospice care room, where they would stop his medicine. Looking back now, I understand his decision to stop the medication, but in that moment I was frustrated. Why wouldn’t he want to get better? Why wouldn’t he just take the medicine daily and let it help him? How could he just let himself go? Eventually, I figured it out. I knew that the medicine was the only thing keeping him going, I knew that he valued the life he once lived and that he wanted to remember his life being filled with freedom and good health. He didn’t want to remember being cooped up in a house constantly pumping medicine through his system, paying a large amount of expensive medical bills, and not being able to be independent and do the things that he loved.  It took me a while to understand his logic, but once I did I was finally at peace with it.

My grandpa was and still is the strongest man I know. He endured so much throughout his entire life. He suffered from skin cancer, leukemia, emphysema, and lived through a heart attack. Prior to entering the hospital for the last time, he got a bad case of pneumonia and suffered from a very bad infection in his lungs. He had fluid around his heart, and the doctors performed a surgery on his heart to remove the fluid while he was awake. The doctors told my family that they had never seen anything like that before and that we had a very strong man for a grandpa, and boy were they right.

When my grandpa was forty one years old, he fell off of a roof while he was working construction and lost his leg from the knee down due to infection from the fall. He knew that he would never be able to skate or swim again or that he would never be able to run the bases while playing softball. He wondered how he would keep up with his five children, or how he would learn to walk again, or whether or not he would be able to find work. But being the strong man he was he began rehabilitation, and he began to learn to walk with a prosthetic leg. He would no longer work for the construction company, and with just an 8th grade education, he went back to school to get an education in business. Getting straight A’s he began working in a cabinet shop and soon opened his own custom cabinetry. He told me this story a million times, and each time he told it, he taught it as a lesson. He knew that he would no longer be able to do some of the things a person with two healthy legs could do, but he would still be able to do what he loves, like bow hunt, watch sports, spend time with family, and build beautiful wood work with his hands. My grandpa always taught me that there are times in life where we must fall, but there is always opportunity to get back up again. Though his battle was coming to an end, his strength throughout his long lived life, inspired me to be strong just like him, no matter what the circumstance.

All day on that Sunday, friends and family came to visit him. Even though he was unresponsive, the love was in the room. We stood around him, hand in hand, tears streaming down our faces, praying over him.

On October 13th, 2014, after a long hard fought battle, the good Lord finally took my grandpa home to him in heaven. He passed peacefully, surrounded by those he loved dearly. Tears flooded my face as I left the hospital that day, and it was one of the hardest days of my life. The hugs from the family and friends surrounding me couldn’t comfort my aching heart. Though I was grieving the loss of my grandpa, I began to realize how truly lucky I am to have such a hard-working, courageous, and tough guardian angel looking down on me.

On our way back home that Monday night, the sun drown in the horizon, it’s ray of light glimmering through the fading clouds. The sky was painted an array of pink, orange, and yellow, peering through the colorful autumn leaves of the tall leafy trees. The drive was quiet and steady, so quiet I could hear my own breathing. I felt as if time had finally slowed back down to a regular pace, and I had time to hinder my thoughts, freeing my mind of all commotion. I had time to just think. The clouds held the promise of calm and peaceful night, and for the first time in awhile I felt content.