It was a nightmare the day of my best friend’s death. A million questions were roaring in my head. What did he do to deserve this? Why did this have to happen to me? There I was analyzing my life, heart broken and speechless. The walls, closing in on me while I sat in my room weeping. I prayed with all my heart and soul that God would take care of him in heaven because I no longer could.
It was another ordinary Thursday of my life. I woke up to a delicious aroma of sweet syrup and freshly cooked pancakes; I knew from then on my mother was in a wonderful mood. I graciously woke up and decided to do my natural routine of showering, and brushing. As I ran down the stairs to get the fluffiest pancake before my other sibling got a chance, a loud “ring ring” echoed around the house. Surely I thought it was my best friend, my grandfather because we had big plans that day to go to play tennis, and have lunch together so I rushed to get the phone. To my surprise it was my Aunt Lissy she sounded fearful and in a rush to speak to my mother. Worried, I handed the phone to my mother, who by the concerned look in my eyes knew something was wrong. One minute there was a huge smile planted on my mother’s face and the next she was on the floor screaming and in tears. My grandfather, who I thought was invincible, had lost his battle in the war of life.
I was shocked and in tears for months. I would not leave my room or talk to anyone; I was secluded from the rest of the world. My mother was very worried about me so she decided to call doctors, psychiatrists, neighbors and friends no one could take me away from the pitiful state I was in. I had no faith or belief in anything; all I wanted to do was be with the most important man in my life. I was ready to take away my life. One day my sister found my diary and showed it to my mom. She was depressed and astonished by my dishonorable plans. My mother decided to call one more person to try to change my mind, our church’s local priest, father Rivera.
I was lying on my bed still lament and miserable, until I heard a loud “BOOM BOOM” bouncing off my walls. I quickly got up and opened the door, it was Father Rivera. I was stunned to see him but knew why he had come and I believed he would not change my mind. Here we were standing face to face my eyes to the floor, he took his hands from behind his back and to my surprise it was my diary. Father Rivera then went toward my window and burned it saying “this is a sin” those word repeated in my head. He then handed me a Bible saying “open it my child” as I opened it I noticed there were writing in it by my grandfather. It said “dearest Sismi even if I am not here anymore believe in yourself and in the miracles of god because that is who I am with.” That one sentences changed my life forever, I now had a reason to live and believe because the miracles of God will always be with me. I ran into Father Rivera’s hands sobbing, while he said “bless you child, bless you”
It has been 3 years since the death, I am no longer afraid that I have lost my grandfather because I know that god is taking care of him by his wonderful miracles he has showered upon him. I am thankful to Father Rivera for showing me the light and allowing me never to go back there. I cherish every moment I had with my grandfather, his death taught me to never forget how god answered my prayers.