Chapter 22

He was the only person who had sincerely cared for me and loved me, who didn't try to ruin my life day by day, and I hadn't been able to be with him for so long. My parents had taken us away from our family because of my father, because of that alcoholic.

Now that I could feel that I was with my family, even though there was still a demon roaming among us, everything was going downhill.

And because of me.

That's why I hated the lack of control, the fact that I couldn't handle things. When I did something that I didn't think about, that I didn't analyze, bad things always happened.

I knew that life was that and that it was whatever came, but I didn't. I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle it and now I didn't know where to get so much money so as not to risk my grandfather's life.

I had applied for jobs the last few days and most of them didn't call me, or if they did, it was to turn me down.

I was a college student with little time to work and part-time jobs were very difficult to find, as well as to access.

"Is everything in order," Matt asked, returning with two trays of uncovered food.

The nurse gave me a short smile before leaving again to do her job, which gave Matt the opportunity to approach to ask.

It was obvious from my worried face that something bad had happened.

"Is your grandfather okay?" he looked at me worriedly, as I walked beside him to the elevator to go up to his room.

I sighed, "No, not really, but I'll work it out," I said, trying not to let him ask any more questions.

He gave me a sidelong glance of sadness, before pressing a button further up to the floor I was going to.

We were silent, as more people entered, but as soon as I reached my floor he stopped me and handed me one of the trays of food.

"For your grandfather," he smiled short, "I'll be right here, in case you need to talk, okay?"

"Thanks Matt, you didn't have to bother," I gave him as much of a smile as I could and walked out of there, in search of my grandfather's room.

I took a deep breath, relaxed my face to remove all traces of worry and sadness from my face, before opening the door to find him watching TV. He was watching old programs, like from his time.

He stopped watching and smiled at me, most of his teeth missing.

I had always found it funny to see him like that, but at that moment, lying on a gurney in a hospital gown and with a bandage on his head from the blow he took when he fell down the stairs, it gave me more sadness than I could contain with my expressions.

"Hey little girl," he said, "Did you see?, I was able to find that program I told you about."

"Yes, Grandpa, you won't have to complain anymore," I sat down on the couch next to him, "Look, a friend of mine bought you a tray of food. I know you can't eat some things, so we can share it, what do you think?"

"Of course I do. You know I would never refuse to feed you, even if I were dying," he smiled and uncovered the food, but that last word hadn't gone down too well with my stomach. He noticed right away and sighed, "My child, come here," he invited me to sit next to him on the gurney and I did, "I know it's hard, but look at me, I'm old now. It's part of life to die and you already know that, at any moment I could go," he stroked my hair and I felt my eyes sting.

"That's easy to say when you're the one leaving."

"I know, but you'll be fine, you're a strong girl," she hugged me, "What defines you Amy, is that. Out of my whole family, out of my daughters, you are the only woman who has stayed in control of her life and accomplished things they never would have done. That's why I'm so proud of you and I'm sure your grandmother would be too, wherever she is," he said tenderly and I couldn't hold back the tears of weakness that released my eyes.

It hurt like hell to lose a loved one and even more so if it was the person who mattered most to me, who had taken care of me.

I felt that inside me a war had been waged, destruction, and I could not bear it.

I was not ready to lose my grandfather too.

Who could be ready to say goodbye, although I didn't know how serious his health was, since it was a game of chance, not knowing who would fall, but as he had said, we all must die.

And he had his years. They were already weighing on him and I suffered for not letting him go, for him to continue in this world where he had to separate from the love of his life and continue for the daughters they had left behind.

However, he no longer had any reason to stay and fight.

He had already fulfilled his life and it pained me to know that this was so.

That I could do nothing to keep him present, to bring back the time so that he could leave in the company of the person who shared his life with him.

"Crying is part of us and I know it's reaction to pain, but you have to keep in mind that I will always be with you, wherever you go," he said and I nodded out of uncertainty, but I was no longer present. I felt locked in my own consciousness, "If you have faith, someday we will meet again."

I bit my lips, my heart clenched. Sadness overpowered me and I tried not to show him that I was afraid of being left alone, without him, as if I was not capable of taking care of myself as he did.

I didn't want him to have reason to continue to struggle and suffer, when he could simply go to rest as he deserved.

I had no idea what was after death, but only the hope of returning him to me was the only thing that could comfort my broken heart.

Surely that was the only thing that could comfort a broken and empty heart for the loss of someone who was no longer there.

I didn't know what death was made for or why we ended up loving the people around us to the point that you would never want to lose them, like you wanted to put them in a little glass box now that they would never leave your side. And that, in a way, was what destroyed you.

That it couldn't happen, ever. You couldn't predict if when you walked out a door you would see them again.

Very few people could say goodbye and you didn't know what was more painful; whether to say goodbye and have the helplessness of knowing that he is leaving, but that you can do absolutely nothing to stop his death. Or having him leave while you are in the middle of work, studying or even getting to see him, not being able to say anything to him, holding back what you could have said to him.

Why couldn't I stop the burning in my chest?

I didn't want to collapse in front of him, I had to get out.

I gave him a pat on the head, "Save me what you're not going to eat, grandpa, okay? I'll be right back," I gave him a smile that seemed more like a grimace and left in search of freedom.

I thought right away that the hospital might have a rooftop and I needed air, freedom. Even if it meant feeling the urge to throw myself from the top, instead of feeling a piece of my soul being mercilessly ripped out of me.