This week has really taken a toll on me emotionally. I guess I shall start with my grandfather. I only have one grandfather and no grandmothers. My paternal grandparents died before I was born, or before I could have any proper memories of them. Sometimes I see pictures of them and wonder what they would be like. My maternal grandmother died when I was four. And although I had only known her for such a small amount of time, I have all the memories I need to know that she loved me. Each day I look back and see how she and my grandpa would take me to buy cookies at the Six Pack Stop, and then go back because my grandpa bought me the wrong kind of cookies. I have this one memory of her that is the most clear to me. We're in the living room, and she has an orange on a plate in hand, cut up into eighths. At the moment, I was excited to eat my favorite fruit, with my most favorite person in the worls. Then, she began teaching me how to count. One, all the way to eight. It was the most exciting moment of my life, the moment I first learned anything. Not long after, she got really sick. Its hard to explain what exactly happend, because I barely know myself, and I have not the courage or strength to ask. Whatever it was, left her in a coma before she finally passed. I was too young to understand what was happening, but I sure was sad not seeing her everyday like I was used to. My grandpa was devastated after losing her, but he knew he had daughters and grandchildren and tons of other family to help him repair the hole he had in his heart for the loss of his wife. Fourteen years later, we have not forgotten of our angel. But as we remeber the amazing woman we loved dearly, we were getting ready to say goodbye. This weekend, my grandpa was admitted to the hospital for severe pain throughtout his whole body. Now, in the fourteen years since my grandma died, my grandpa had been diagnosed with cancer, and diabetes, and countless things one would never wish to get, but he would always bounce back up healthy again. This time, he may not be so lucky. In the hospital, we were told he had Acute Kidney Failure, Enlarged Lymphnodes, and Hydrophosis. His kidneys were working at thirty-five percent and gradually decreasing, and they were filling up with water/urine. There were two options. One was to send him to an out of town hospital, where he would be put under anesthesia, and have surgery. But at ninety years old, there was a fifty percent chance he would make it. Two, was to stay in the hospital until his doctor came to make a proper diagnosis (some doctors don't work on the weekends, so we had to wait until Monday for an appointment). But my grandfather, becoming disoriented at times, chose, instead, to go home because he said that if he was going to die, he wanted to die at home. So since Saturday, we've been watching him. Feeding him, helping him sit up, cleaning his bowels, helping him do activities of daily living so he can be comfortable until his last day. Then, theres the fact that in just a few days I move to a new town to start on my path to become a Registered Nurse. I should be excited, and I am, but not as I should be. I'm mostly scared that he will die once I'm living in my dorm. It will be harder than if he dies when I'm still here because my heart will tear knowing that I never got to see him one last time. It will also hurt me to know that I won't be here to be with my mom the moment she finds out her only living parent is-- well, no longer living. My mother is my everything, as is my family. But knowing I left when my mother is going through something like this hurts even more. And now, along with the saddness, pain, hurt, and eagerness I've felt this week, I introduce my recently brought back feeling of heartbreak. There was a moment in my highschool life when I actually had a crush on someone that I actually talked to. Not just the hot football player, or the cutie pie nerd that I would see at lunch. Someone who I would see everyday, and talk and laugh with all the time. For a while, I had denied my feelings, because he was one of those boys that everyone liked. But he wasn't like that either. He was liked because of his personality. His looks were just a plus, or so I thought. When I finally accepted that this guy was as great as he was, I began talking to him, texting him, and baking him cakes, and cookies, in the hopes that he would warm up to me, and even start to like me. It worked. He soon began to open up to me about his moms cancer, and all types of personal things. He would text me when the moon was big, and bright, and beautiful, just so I could see it. We would text all the time. For a while, I had felt like someone could actually like me back. But as summers passed, school started, and so did the rumors that one of my friends liked him. Don't get me wrong, my friend is the sweetest person you know. and she's very pretty and also has a great personality. When he found out, he didn't think much of it, but I did. Obviously thought my friend was a much better pair for him than me. But that never stopped me from trying. Soon, I realized that he had also developed feelings for her, so I decided that it was time to back off. Soon, they were dating. I always look back and feel regret, that I never told him. Maybe it would've changed things. Maybe It wouldn't. But as my senior year was coming to end, and so was his junior year, our schedules deviated. I no longer saw him as often. He would not text me unless I texted him, and even then he would take from hours to days. Soon, I had accepted the fact that we weren't as good friends anymore as we had been before. Of course, I don't hate him, nor do I hate his girlfriend. I could never hate them because I know they consider me a great friend. They are too great of people for anyone to hate. Its just a fact. Summer again came around the corner and I thought I would see him more again, and that made me happy. But as it turned out, he got a job. So whenever there was a social outing, he wasn't there, or he was, but with his girlfriend, So I never got the chance to have a proper conversation like we used to. Finally one time, he wasn't working and his girlfriend wasn't there. We had gone to Chili's for my bestfriends birthday and I wasn't sure if I wanted to get the "Two for Twenty" deal like everyone else. By the time everyone had a pair, I was left alone, and he ran into the restaruant, late as usual and sat two chairs away from me. We agreed to do the deal, and so he moved next to me so we could share an appetizer. As soon as he sat down, I had felt like I was on top of the world. I hadn't seen him in so long, and now we were sharing food like we used to before. But still I had felt horrible. Even though I was just happy to see my friend, I also felt like I was flirting. Knowing he was dating my friend, I was afraid that I would take it too far. But I didn't. Since then, we started talking again like we used to before I realized I liked him. Then last night, he called me at midnight. He had just gotten out of work and wanted to return the Usb I had lent him (he didn't know when he would see me again before I left). So naturally I said yes. Excited that I was gonna see him again I put on pants, and fixed my hair because he had woken me up. When he called, I went to the door to find he had brought me pizza. He said that he owed me from a time that I took him a whole pumpkin pie to his house-- a pie for a pie. Then we talked for about ten minutes, because it had started to rain. Seeing his smile, and hearing him laugh reminded me of how things used to be. Then I remembered: "Girlfriend". So I sat in my desk, eating cold pizza in my pajamas, filling that heartbreak with cheese and pepperoni. So what did I do when a cute guy gave me pizza? I took it. And then I did absolutely nothing.