Gone

I'm standing there, staring. I'm lost for words. My mom came back crying. What's wrong? Could it be what I think it could be? My heart drops to my stomach. That gut wrenching feeling grows and grows. No! It couldn't be! This can't be happening. Tell me this is a dream. Please be a dream? My mind was racing. My heart beating faster than a hummingbird's wings. She finally gets to where I am sitting. My mom, the strongest person I know, standing above me. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. She leaned down. She gets by my ear and that is when she said words I never wanted to hear.
"He's dead."
That's all? He's dead? Could you tell me more? What happened? When? Why wasn't I there? Can we leave now? I want to be with him. He can't be gone. It was only yesterday that I was standing in the garden with him as he showed me his sunflowers. Oh, those sunflowers. How I loved to see them when my dad pulled into the driveway. They seemed ten feet tall. As if nothing could touch them, and when I looked at them I felt that way, too. But now... They are gone. And so is he. Gone. Forever. 
Why? Why couldn't I make the pain in my chest go away? My mom still standing above me, watching,
"He's dead."
Those two words echoed in my head.
"He's dead."
They seemed to be the only words I was able to comprehend at that moment, that moment that seemed like days. Unreal. My mom, still looking at me, opened her mouth. I heard nothing. Her mouth keep moving, but still I heard no sound. I just stared. Then she leaned in again.
She whispered in my ear, "Come on Sweetie. Let's go see him." I couldn't move. She handed me my coat.
"He's dead."
Those two words kept repeating in my mind. I stood up. This still felt like a dream. I walked over to the door. I looked back. Mom was talking to Austin. He stood up and left. Did she tell him? My mom walked up to me and said something. I still didn't hear it. All I could hear was her voice saying,
"He's dead,"
over and over again.
"Grief, when it comes, is nothing we expect it to be," wrote Joan Didion in her essay titled "After Life." I didn't know what was happening when my mom told me. I froze. That moment seemed to last for days. We went to see him that night. My dad had met us there. That was the first time I saw my dad cry. My aunt and grandma were there when we got there. Everyone had tears streaming down their face. The next few weeks seemed like torture. All I wanted was to see him. I just wanted to go over to his house and sit with him.
I remember when I used to go over there. He had an enormous coin collection. We would spend hours looking through the jars and boxes and drawers of coins. New or old, pennies, dimes, nickels, quarters, 50 cent pieces, special coins. If you named it he had it. Each one had a story about it. I loved hearing him explain what they were and the unique story behind each coin. I would give anything to go back and spend one more day with him.
When I went back to school after it happened, everyone gave me hugs and told me it would be okay. I knew it would, but, at the time, it didn't feel that way. In one article titled "Dealing with the Death of a Loved One," it states, "You may be told that grief comes in clear-cut stages and you may even be given a name for the stage you're supposedly going through. You may hear advice like "Be strong!" or "Cheer up!" or "Get on with your life!" rather than be encouraged to allow your grief to run its natural course." People can't tell you how to feel. I had to grieve in my own way. The night it happened, I went home and asked my mom to get me the stuffed animal he got me when I was little. This was a cat that purred when it moved. I remember when he gave me it; the huge smile on my face. He had known that my parents wouldn't let me get a cat at the time, so he got me one. I loved it. I drug it wherever I went: To bed, to the movies. I think I might have even carried it in my backpack to school. Everywhere that I went the cat was sure to go.
I still feel a pain in my heart when I think about him being gone. It's weird going over to my grandparent's house and him not being there, I can tell there is a hole in my dad's heart because he is gone. Gone too soon. One thing I have to remember to get me through my grief and sorrow, he is in a better place. In my World Literature class, we read an excerpt of the Qur'an. In the Qur'an it says, "The life to come holds a richer prize for you than this present life. You shall be gratified with what your Lord will give you." No matter what troubles we face in our life today, it will get better. I will be able to see him again someday far away from now. But, until then, when I feel the pain of him being gone, I will grieve and grab my stuffed, purring cat and imagine him giving it to me. Whenever I see sunflowers, I will think of the times we shared in his garden. Whenever I see a special coin, I will think of the hours we spent sitting in his room, staring at a collection of coins words could not describe. Whenever I hear the memory of my mom's voice utter the words, "He's dead," I will remember that he is in a better place now. Whenever I miss my grandpa Jerry, I will remember all the good times we had and how many more we have to come when I can finally be reunited with him.
Every person grieves in a different way and at different rates. On December 1st, it marked five years since he has been gone. I can't say I'm completely over it yet. I'm still grieving. There is no time limit on grieving. Grieving takes time and patience. Losing someone you love is hard, and when you do, grieve on your own time and in your own way.