I have been blessed with an abundance of friendships in my life, but some of my most important friendships are with my family members. One of the most important friendships I've had in my life was with my grandpa Verne. I love my other family members, but with my grandpa Verne I shared a lot of important moments and I loved our dynamic. We played numerous games of marbles and golf together, and during those simple games we would joke and, frequently, debate. I loved spending time with him. He would tell his stories, some more true than others, and my grandparent's home felt like it was my second home.

My grandpa was diagnosed with cancer just before Christmas of 2014. He had health scares before, so I just tried to brush it off as another scare. I wanted to believe that there was a cure and he would be alright. I denied what was going on, and I didn't know how to process the fact that I was going to lose one of my lifelong best friends. My grandpa was an interesting character, but I loved him so much; I couldn't picture a life without him. Well, maybe I could, but I certainly didn't want to. So as his prognosis looked grimmer and grimmer, I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to act like everything was normal and okay? Or was I supposed to try to take care of him in any way I could? I wasn't sure, so I ended up doing a combination of both. The day after I got back home from my sophomore year of college, my grandpa ended up in the hospital, and I barely recognized him. He looked like an old man, not the grandpa I was familiar with. He no longer looked like the grandpa who was quick to offer up an Ole and Lena joke, play a round of marbles, or start a silly argument just because he wanted to argue. I was shocked by how much he had changed from the time between Easter (the last time I had seen him) and early May. I was scared that I was going to have to say goodbye sooner rather than later. My grandpa recovered from that scare, but my family all knew it was only a matter of time before it wouldn't just be a scare.

I don't think I've ever prayed so hard in my life. Early on in my grandpa's diagnosis, I prayed for a cure; I prayed for God to heal my grandpa and give me more time with him. That wasn't in God's plan, and when I realized that (after many prayers), I began to pray for my family. I prayed that this challenging time would bring us together rather than tear us apart, and that we would stay strong as a family after my grandpa passed away. My entire family, including my grandpa, prayed a lot. I think praying and our faith in Christ is what grounded my family as we coped with my grandpa's illness. I know it's what my grandpa clung to.

When I went home for my fall break, my grandpa was not doing well. My mom told me that he was nearing the end, and that it was important for me to spend time with him. So I did. I didn't really comprehend what that would really mean: saying goodbye for the last time. I said goodbye before heading back to school like usual, making sure to give him a hug (he loved his hugs) and I told him I loved him. He thanked me for coming to see him and I thanked him for still being there. That was the last conversation I had with my grandpa. He passed away a few weeks later, early on Halloween morning. I knew that dreaded phone call was coming, but I had absolutely no idea how much it would hurt. Once I got off the phone with my mom, I cried harder than I have in my entire life and tried to start packing to head back home to be with my family. Honestly, the packing part seems rather hilarious now. I threw the most random pieces of clothing in a bag. I still don't entirely know what I was trying to pack.

When I got to my grandparents' house it seemed weird not to see my grandpa there. I half expected him to walk through the door at any minute, but logically, I knew that he wouldn't. I stayed with my family at my grandparents' house for several hours. All I wanted was to be with them and just be with people who were going through the same thing that I was: loss. I hate crying in front of people, but that weekend and at my grandpa's funeral, I cried a lot, even though I tried not to. During the funeral, I watched as my grandma was handed the folded American flag and I clung to her hand as they lowered my grandpa's casket into the ground. It was a tough day for our entire family.

Almost 10 months later, I have gotten a little more used to the new family dynamic. I think my family is closer in some ways, but we are still coping with the loss of an important family member. Every once in a while, I forget that he's gone, but then I remember and it's difficult to deal with, but my whole family continues to cope with his loss. The thing that seems to help the most is knowing that he is in a better place now, a place without pain and a place where he's reunited with his parents and several of his siblings. I know that, but I will continue to miss one of my best friends. I cherish the memories I have with him and I'm so glad I kept some of the birthday cards my grandparents gave me with his goofy doodles on them. Those memories make it a little easier, and it never fails to put on a smile on my face when I remember his silly jokes, his ridiculous debates, or even how incredibly stubborn he was. He may be gone, but I will never forget him.