It had been a good three years since I had set foot at my grandparent’s property. Three very long years since I had smelled the sweet smell of wildflowers that had grown there. Three long years since I had felt the cold water of the river. And three years since I had entered that horrible house, which contains only bad memories. I have only gone up there once since it had happened. And only because I was forced by my mom “It’ll help your dad.” She said “Do you really think he wants to go there either?”

In my mind however this was a selfish was to try and persuade me to go there. I hated the thought of ever returning there. Even though what was evil was now gone, it made me sick. Every bad memory swirled in my mind the night before, my mind was restless.

My father and two of his five siblings went up one day to bury the ridged corpse, in a hole dug out of pity. He did not deserve even this. Unfortunately I know that the words I describe my grandfather with are cold and intolerable, but frankly, I don’t care. They were the only three present at the “funeral” that even they did not want to attend. This however, is not surprising since he pushed his family away, with crazed thoughts and actions.

He was disliked and a vial excuse for a human, with no love in his heart and only hatred, jealousy, and a thick opinionated skull. He hurt his family with more than just words, and now he pays for it in some unknown place.

The day that this horrible event occurred started like any other. We were planning a birthday party for my now two year old cousin Ali. My dad’s phone rang, and the screen flashed mom. He picked it up, listened for a minute and then said “no, mom. I’m not going up there.”
He grimaced “No! He can call someone else if he wants to play this b******t game!”
He hung up and stormed off.
I turned to my mom after my dad left and said “Oh, he’s playing that game again.”
“I guess so.” She replied
“Well hopefully he just does it this time.” I muttered.
“It would be better for all of us.”

About two hours later my dad gets another call. But this time it was from his brother Sunny.
“What? Are you serious?” my dad said into the phone.
You could hear muffled frantic speaking over the line.
“So, you’re coming here then?”
Another pause.
“Yea, I’ll call Nick.”
Both my parents left then and went to Troy, where my grandparents lived.

When they came back the next night, my mom explained to me what happened. Although I didn’t care to know, from what she said, it was the most horrible thing to see, let alone witness.
My grandfather and grandmother were in their room together. He had been drinking; he had become an alcoholic over these past few years. He was sitting on his bed, saying how his family hated him. How no one ever sees him, and how no one cared about him. My grandmother was trying to calm him down, but was unsuccessful. He sat on the bed, said he was going to kill himself. Reached under his pillow and put the cold metal of the gun in his mouth.
She screamed.
And he pulled the trigger.