The terrible thought of it made me cry, the word death. I knew it was inevitable, knowing how unhealthy my grandpa was for some time. I was only 13 years old when the day came. It was a day of tragedy and sorrow as we all mourned for him, but I do not know if anyone felt the same way that I did. I was just a kid; I was not supposed to have my best friend die, gone forever. I just could not accept the fact that he was never going to be here with me.

My family was always telling him to stop smoking, one thing that he could not give up. I did not really understand the seriousness of this habit until his first heart attack. Sometime later they sent him in for open-heart surgery, even then knowing that he had been diagnosed with emphysema 15 years before all of this. After his open-heart

When it seemed that all things were great, something terrible shoved its way back into my grandpa’s life, smoking. The terrible habit he started with as a young adolescent was back. He just could not break the habit. I didn’t really understand how somebody could become so dependent on something at the time, especially when he knew that it was only going to hurt him. It just hurt me so bad to watch my grandpa basically ruin himself letting his grandson and best friend watch. There was nothing I could do. Everything seemed hopeless from here on. The sad fact was that everything really was hopeless. As soon as he started smoking everything just went down hill from there. All I could do was to hope that my grandpa would stop smoking, and to my dismay he did. He stopped smoking. One day he just decided to give it all up. I do not know if it was the fact that he was hurting himself more, or the feedback he was getting from the people that surrounded his life. All I know is that he quit, but at that time it may have been too late. He never really made a huge turn around: In fact, he just slowly continued to worsen. It hurt so bad to see him that way. He finally gave up the thing that was killing him, but it just seemed to continue to thrive in him. This never-ending regression in health just continued to spiral downward, until it seemed life had gotten the best of my grandpa.

I remember it quite vividly. People in suits standing side by side with their hands clasped together, rows of solemn faces, and the embraced families. The minister mentioned that it was a celebration of my grandpa's life. It did not feel like a celebration though. The scent of old candles and preservatives did not give me the feeling of a celebrat

Some topics in this essay:
People Die, It's It's, stop smoking, hurt bad, open-heart surgery,