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Growing up my life was relatively boring. I lived in a seemingly quite neighborhood and my best friend was an elderly lady who lived across the street in a little leaky green house. I lived beside my grandparents and spent most of the time in my Pawpaw's shop in his back yard watching him do his job.  The only thing even somewhat  odd was that I went to a school where I was the only "white girl" in my classroom. But when you are an eight years old you don't notice things like that. And it would not have bothered me anyway. \



Basically my life was just like every other middle class family's. So the wishing began. I would pray at night for something, anything, to happen so I could have a little excitement in my life. Well, Suffice it to say, I got my wish. And now, looking back, I wish I just would have stopped dreaming at eight.



The moment I saw the Swirls of red and blue mixed with the orange glow of the street lamps that lined our street, I knew Everything was going to change and I didn't like that feeling.





Just as quickly as I had got out of bed to see the commotion out side my bed room window, I laid back down and tried to wake up from a nightmare. But when I felt the mattress sink and heard the whispers of my Maw-Maw and my mother, I knew I  would never wake up.



My grandfather, my Pawpaw, had a heart attack in the early hours of December 12, 1996. And Was pronounced  DOA. Dead...Dead ... Dead. I would never see him again.





My family  had left for the hospital and had come back by the time I woke up from my tear induced sleep. And my mother had calmly sat me down on the couch and said that my Pawpaw had went to heaven. Heaven, she had said the word like she was telling me a bed time story. But this was not a page out of a Disney book, This was the one time where all I needed was a hug and a few comforting whispered words. Instead I got a Sunday school lesson.



The funeral was like one big family reunion with all the trimmings. The parents were passing there children on to an assigned baby sitter and were told to have a good time. Because we couldn't possible have wanted to be around them. It wasnt enough that I had done the fake crying bit in the first few minutes of the ceremony. Which later became real tears, so I had to spend the day of the one person I always looked up to funeral at a friends house watching movies and jumping on a trampoline?



The days slowly turned into winter nights and then into Weekday morning where me and my little brother celebrated not having to go to school, one more day. Then slowly they fade and the days drift throughout the month like the clouds drift throughout the sky, and it was soon the night before the happiest time of the year. It was Christmas Eve. I opened a present from my Pawpaw and Maw-Maw and inside the decorative wrapping I found the most beautiful doll I had ever seen in my life. My favorite Movie character came to me in the form of a toy and her name was Pocahontas. I treasured this for years to come.



Life soon went back to normal and everything was un eventful and even though my parents were always fighting, (which happened a lot before anyway) life seemed dull and ordinary. Then my parents told me we were moving away from the neighborhood I loved so dearly. I had to leave my friends and leave the home I had grew up in. But the most painful, was leaving the house next door where I had spent such a big part of my life in. I would never smell the cedar and metal of my grandfathers shop, I would never hear the sound of Charlie Brown blaring from the office, and I would never taste the hot dogs and chili and the hot summer air of my grandfathers cook outs again.



My mother told me that one day I would forget a lot about my grandfather, so for a better part of my childhood I would spend trying to hold on to every memory I could.



  But she was right. As the years went on I began to forget a lot. I can't remember the sound of his voice, or the feel of his hugs. I can't remember if he ever said he loved me or if he ever yelled at me. But I do remember going in his shop and climbing on the tall stool and watch him smoke his pipe and watch old yeller and wonder what exactly did he do for a living. And along with these memories I hold precious, I have added some new ones.



It's odd, when someone dies you learn a lot about them that you never would have know, had they lived. I learned my grandfather was a drunk who yelled at my Maw-Maw and my mother for breathing the wrong way. I learned he was bossy and slightly arrogant and was probably un faithful to my grandmother. But the me he was Pawpaw.



I can remember sitting on there front porch in the big green swing and telling my grandparents that I wanted them to be at my wedding.



  My Maw Maw died about 2 years ago and with her went most of the memories I needed to keep going, to keep living, to be happy. But when she died, I grew up and just forgot.



  I have lost 3 grandparents, I have a brother in prison, another one who is in the Navy and doesn't talk to me and a little one, who is just trying to discover who he is. My father is a closed off man and who ignores serious issues and doesn't like to talk things out without bringing up religion. Which s the only thing, I think, is keeping him from going crazy?



I am trying my hardest to re connect with my mother and right the things I have wronged but sometimes I don't know if I can fix it all, and I just want to be that eight year old little girl with big blue eyes who always acted up for the camera and was fascinated by a caterpillar.



I never thought it was possible but now I dream about living in a quiet neighborhood  and a green house.