August fifteenth, two thousand one, that was the worse day of my life. Ri!Er!Ri!Er! I heard the ambulance go by with my grandpa’s car behind it. My grandpa always picks me up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from my moms house. Then my dad popped out of the car. “Where is grandpa?” My brother and I asked my dad. My dad didn’t answer. “Something is wrong here,” I said to myself. So we hopped in the car and began the long journey to my grandpa’s house. “Why are the ambulance in front of grandpa’s house?” I asked my dad. No words came out of his mouth the only thing moving was a teer coming down his cheek. ” Why isn’t he answering me?” I questioned myself. I plunged out of the car. I fought my way through the cops and doctors to get inside the house. It was so silent it was like it was a graveyard in the house. I silently walked through the halls. I walked into my grandpa’s room and saw my grandpa on the bed and a doctor standing next to the bed. My grandpa was hardly even moving. “What is wrong with him?!?!” I blurted out loud to the doctor. “He has cancer.” The doctor said in a calm voice. “I love you Cris.” My grandpa moaned as if in pain. Then he stopped breathing, his heart stopped beating, and he stopped moving. “Grandpa! Grandpa! You can’t leave me, don’t die!” I yelled while teers came running down my eyes. Just then I had a flash back on when he taught me my abcs “Say a.” he would say. “Ale,” I would say back. And the time he taught me to read and wright. “Wright car.” My grandpa would tell me.Then I would wright something along the lines of collilock. “What’s this word?” My grandpa would ask me pointing at the word cat. “car!” I would say back. My grandpa was more than a grandpa he was a best friend. A friend that will remain in my heart forever.