Personal Narrative: My Grandpa's Death

My grandpa’s death was one of those deaths where you can remember everything about. Where you were, how you were affected, who told you, all that bitter memories you try not to remember but you remember anyways. I can recall every memory I had with him, every detail, visiting him in the hospital, how the family was dealing with this. It was one of those events you couldn’t forget, and can’t forget even if you wanted to since you were so close to that person. He didn’t get sick. I don’t think he ever was sick. There was just something wrong with his leg, it was causing him some sort of pain. He had arthritis, so he doesn’t use his limbs as much as he used to. Rather than walking, he stays in bed all day and tries not to move that much. Something …show more content…
I didn’t think he was that bad, but I was so wrong. Something was clearly wrong with him besides his leg, nothing could had affected him that bad. Inside his hospital room, it smelt like rotten flesh. Something was dying, and it was my grandpa. He knew he was going to die, he kept telling my mom over and over again and she refused to believe it. I refused to believe it too, I thought he was going to get better after this surgery and that everything would be fine. I thought the smell would go away, and he’d feel much better. I thought I’d have more memories of him being happy instead of him being in his bed. I thought he wouldn’t be in pain anymore. I thought he’d live, but we were all wrong.
We weren’t there when he had his surgery. We weren’t there when he died in his hospital room, with his amputated leg and wearily lungs. He died alone in his hospital room, without having his family around him. However, we all knew he died. That night, me, my mom, my dad, my little sister all woke up at the same time that night. We woke up at the time when he died. My mom told me it was his way of saying his final goodbyes to us, and I don’t think I’ve ever cried that much in my