This is just a dream.

It was 7:00 in the morning. I was asleep in my bed. I woke up after hearing my mother crying. I knew why, but I didn't believe it. I raced out of my room and asked her what was wrong. She then told me the worst news of my life: my grandfather was dead. I was in shock at first, I didn't know what to do. Apparently, my aunt says she heard him go to the bathroom and go back to his room. My uncle went into his room to but on his patch for his heart, and couldn't wake him up. He had pneumonia and a weak heart, he couldn't handle the stress. He is now with my grandmother who died 6 months ago from the same thing.

My grandfather was interesting to me. Zenon George Fryszer was born on April 14, 1926 in Poland. At the age of 13, he was seized by the Nazis and was taken to a concentration camp to make sure no one left. A few years later, most of them were taken on a boat to be blown up, but thankfully the boat was saved. That story intrigues me no matter how many times I heard it.

It's still very new to me, and I can't accept it. I don't want to. Even writing this makes me want to cry. I can't deal. I can't handle this. I didn't even get over my grandmother, and now this? Why now? Before the holidays? I didn't even see him after Thanksgiving, and I feel horrible. I didn't even say goodbye.

RIP, I love you and miss you. <3
Posted on December 19th, 2008 at 09:47pm


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