How? How could I go from having the best night ever to crying for hours? I just had the absolute best night with all my friends. We had so much fun listening to music, dancing, and doing all the activities a typical twelve-year-old would do at a sleepover. Then I got a strange and unexpected call from my mom around 10 am. She told me she would pick me up because had some stuff to do. What would we have to do on a Sunday besides go to church? When she picked me up, she told me we needed to go to my grandparents’ house.

My mom was so quiet in the car that I could hear the wind blow outside. I could just see from the look on her face that something was wrong. The way she didn’t make eye contact with me, and the way she refused to talk to me told me something wasn’t right. What is going on? Why are we going to their house?

There it was. Their ranch style home sat on the hill, gleaming in the bright sun like always. I had no idea what was going on. If only I knew what was about to happen. We made it half way through the door, and I saw my grandma and aunt looking through the old wooden cabinets in the small living room right off the large kitchen. Why are they here? They should be at the hospital with Papaw. Did he come home?

My mom continued to get my younger brother and me all the way through the door and told us to sit on the old green couch with her. She began to shake. Her eyes started to water, and I realized I was about to hear the worst news a twelve-year-old could hear.

Oh no. He didn’t make it. I began to shake, too.

 “He’s gone; the cancer killed him,” my mom told us gently.

“What? Why?” my 9-year-old brother asked.

“Shut up, Justin,” I yelled to my brother as tears started to flow down my face.

All I could do was cry. The water in my eyes flowed like waterfalls. My red-faced aunt sat next to me and began to pull me into her arms tighter than ever. Her face was just like my mom’s. They weren’t ok.

 “It’s going to be ok,” she told me, “breathe.”

 What am I going to do? Why would God take such a great person from me?

My papaw was my best friend, the person I could go to for help, and my partner in crime. As I sat there praying to God that this was just a dream, I remembered all the things we would do together, from all the cuddles in his chair while we watched shows together, to all the bedtime stories he would tell me as I fell asleep on his lap.

 The feel of his touch when he hugs me, the sound of his voice telling me he loved me, and the look of his precious face were gone. He was gone, he was really gone. Then I realized I could finally let go. Goodbye, best friend.