This story is for an English assessment. It can't be more than 500 words, although this is. Usually it'd be a bit more descriptive, but I'd go over the word limit. I wrote this this afternoon. Everything in this story really happened and I couldn't help but cry as I wrote this. Enjoy!
I was sleeping peacefully in my bed, but was awoken by light nudges on my shoulder. My eyes slowly fluttered open to meet my dad's bloodshot gaze. He'd been crying. I felt as if a cold and clammy hand had clenched tightly around my stomach. I needn't hear his words to know what had happened, but he spoke anyway.
His voice was soft and shaky. "He's gone." With those two words, my assumption was proved correct. After three long years, my Grandpa had lost the battle with cancer.
I burst into tears and my dad quickly wrapped his arms around me. He was crying once again. I had never seen this side of him before. I'd never seen him so upset and it only increased my grief.
"He's in a better place now," my dad whispered softly. "He isn't suffering anymore." I nodded, shedding warm and salty tears. He was right and I was glad he was no longer in pain. After all he'd suffered, it would be selfish of me to wish he'd not have died so soon. I should be glad I met him at all, for I wasn't so lucky as too meet my Grandma Margaret; she died of cancer when my dad was only twenty one years old.
As I sat there, slightly calmed by my dad's embrace, a memory that I both love... and hate, flashed through my mind.
I was at the Hospice, where my Grandpa was living until he died. He was expected to die within the next few weeks and my ninth birthday was in a months time.
My Grandpa held my hand in his own as he spoke. "Laura, trust me when I say I will be here for your birthday." He smiled lightly, but I could tell that he was fighting back tears that threatened to show.
I nodded, warm and salty tears streaming down my face.
I didn't think that would happen, but he had kept his word. He had died three days after my birthday; Thursday, March the twenty fifth at eleven o'clock at night.
After a few silent minutes, my two sister's entered my room and my dad and I ended the hug.
Alana and Rachael were crying as they sat on my bed. They hugged me too.
"How did you find out?" I asked my dad.
"Grandma Shirley phoned in the early hours of the morning," he replied solemnly. "He died at about eleven o'clock last night."
I ended the hug between my sisters and I. "Okay." I nodded, leaving the warmth of my bed.
"Do you want to stay home today?" my dad asked me.
I shook my head 'no'. "There's no point in staying home and I have some important stuff going on at school at the moment, so I'll go," I told him.
"Okay, but come to the school office if you feel you should go home and I'll come to get you straight away."
"Okay." I forced a smile, failing miserably. "What's the time?"
"It's six o'clock."
"Then I might as well get ready," I said, as I left the room to get ready for school.
Grandpa DR, there is not a day that you don't cross my mind. I will miss you far longer than forever.
I hope you enjoyed this short story. Please review!