Grateful In The Grieving
Ella Dassow, fourth place
“He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.” -- Epictetus I have always had a hard time being grateful for the little things. I think it is because I live in a country where freedom is a choice. Not everyone can relate to this lifestyle. We have the freedom to choose where we want to live, who we want to marry, what religion we follow, along with many other things.
This story is about my grandpa and how much I loved him. He was the best, a man who always could make you smile with the littlest things.
He had nicknames for everyone and for me, it was Squirt. I would copy his funny face he always made just to see him laugh at how cute I was. In winter, I would ride the little snowmobile and lean into the curves, so he could have a good laugh at me as well.
When my grandpa brought over ice cream to give to us, I never knew that was the last time I would see him again. I was only 8 years old and I was innocent and clueless to hard things that could happen. My grandpa and grandma were going to go on a motorcycle ride over to a relative’s house. Meanwhile, we were going to our friend’s house to celebrate the Fourth of July and watch the fireworks.
My dad worked as an officer back then for the Taylor County Sheriff’s Office and he got a call from one of the other guys he worked with that his parents had been in an accident. I was slightly worried, but I was young enough that I wasn’t as concerned as I probably should have been. My sisters and I ended up staying the night at our friend’s house because our parents were at the hospital with our grandparents.
In the morning, only Willow and I went to see them. I remember asking my parents what had happened to Grandma and Grandpa. They told me Grandma had some injuries, but was okay. They also said they would tell us about Grandpa when we got to the hospital in Marshfield. I knew then that something wasn’t right, but I thought maybe he had to stay in the hospital longer or was in surgery. When we got there, they told us that our grandpa had died.
I remember just bursting out into tears and sniffling the whole way to the room where our grandma was. My dad had been crying as he told us the news. This was his dad who had died and his mom who was very injured.
My grandma had a lot of siblings and at least a couple were there. I remember one of them saying, “It isn’t right for kids to be this sad.” I silently agreed in my head, but who am I to control whether a person lives or dies? Only God knows and if he is taking you, there is nothing anyone can do to keep you.
After his funeral, I remember thinking about all the things he would now miss out on in my life: birthdays, graduation, cross-country meets, and the list goes on and on. Not to mention how my grandma felt after learning that her husband had passed away.
He was a father, a husband, a son, a brother, a grandpa, and so many more things. Sometimes I think about how I should have done something different to prevent them from going on that motorcycle and having a deer hit it. But I can’t keep fretting about all the what-ifs in life.
When I think about this life-changing moment, I also think about how it changed me. From this sorrowful experience, I have learned that grief will always be there, no matter how long ago it happened. But we can also have hope that we will see them again, one day. I also remember how our whole family grew closer to the friends who cared for us in our struggle. God provided friends who were willing to help us out and love us.
Now I will live my life with joy because I have a hope that I will see my grandpa again. Until then, I will continue to be a light for all. Thank you for listening.
