FINAL DESTINATION

A Journey in Finding Life in Death

I grew up fast and all too quick in a graveyard. Those little black dresses that all the girls around me wanted, had a completely different meaning to me and I probably wore mine more frequently than most.

I remember the very first time someone died. My grandfather (step-grandfather truly, but I love him like a real one and he loved me like his own) had been sick and my mother took me to the hospital to say our goodbyes. My small mind understood the environment was somber. My grandfather was latching on to my hand with tears flowing down his face muttering “I love you” over and over again. But I couldn’t understand why.

Days later he passed. I came home from school only to have my mother pull me into her lap and try to explain the final destination to every living thing on Earth. Death.
6-year-old me couldn’t quite grasp this jarring topic and thought, “Well if you say he is somewhere far away and in a better place, you must mean Australia. That’s pretty far.”

But just like that, life went on. 4 years passed and the beginning of the worst 3 years of my life happened.