It was my second week into my freshman year of high school. On the walk home, I felt normal but the second I stepped into my house something felt off. I was the first one home but something was clearly not right. After I brushed off the feeling and set my backpack down, my mom's van pulled up the driveway. I was ready for her to ask how my day was, but when she walked in, her smile seemed forced and her voice was quiet-- you know how a voice sounds when there's a lumpy feeling in it. I brushed that off too, but the feeling that something was wrong was making its presence more known. My dad pulled up later with my brother and sister in tow. He seemed the most off as anybody. My dad ushered my siblings into the living room and had all three of us sit on the couch while they pulled some kitchen chairs up. The words that fell out of my father's mouth were words I never thought I would hear. As soon as he spoke them, they lingered in the air, giving that off-kilter feeling some meaning. "Grandma passed away this morning," he said in the same voice my mother had.

As those words hung in the air, the world grew sharper. Everything seemed different-- almost lonely. I was confused for the rest of that night. No one that close to me had ever died before. Every person seemed to take it differently. That night we went to see my grandpa and he seemed different as well, but the house felt empty and cold. Her chair was sitting there and even though there wasn't enough seats for everyone, no one sat in it. No one talked that much and the silence was pressing in on us all.

The next day I went back to school and I kept feeling like she was following me around. I knew she wasn't but it felt like she was standing at my locker with me or sitting with me at lunch. I cried a few times after her death and I had accepted it even though it was hard. Losing her was horrible. She was always around when I was a kid and once she was gone I didn't feel like a kid anymore.