It couldn't be. This could not be happening. Not to me. Not to this family. My mother's words kept ringing in my ears.

"He had a heart attack and drowned in the Resevoir."

My grandfather, my only grandfather, had drowned. The worst possible way to die, and it had happened to him. I was in so much shock, tears couldn't meet my eyes. But they could for everyone else. My father, a man I have never saw cry in my teenage life, had tears streaming down his face. My grandmother, oh my poor grandmother, was worse then my father. My sisters and my mother were crying as well. I was the only one in the room unable to shed a tear. I knew I would never see my grandfather again, and it killed me inside. It broke my heart knowing that he wouldn't be at the family dinners. That we couldn't draw on his tummy anymore. That we couldn't style his hair and put make up on him like he always use to let us do. That we couldn't go on our morning walks on Saturdays and Sundays with the dogs anymore.

People are always saying that things happen for a reason. That whatever happens, God has a reason for it. Was there a reason my Grandfather drowned that day? If there is, I sure as hell want to know what it is! He was an amazing man. A terrific father. An even better grandfather. And a good husband. There was no reason he had to go.

The droplets of water came down harder. I could hear the pitter and patter of the rain on the roof of the giant house. Sitting in the dining room chair, my fists were clenched so tight that my knuckles had gone white. I was angry. Everyone else was upset and crying, but I was just plain angry. How could God take such an amazing man from so many peoples' lives? How could he ruin fifteen almost-perfect years with my Grandfather, in less then a half hour?

I bolted out of my chair and stormed out of the room before anyone could protest. The rain was coming down hard as I stomped angrily out into the middle of the yard, far enough from the house to where they could no longer hear my voice over the thunderous storm. There, I focused my emerald hues up at the gray and stormy sky. I didn't care that my clothes and hair were practically drenched. "Why?" I whispered, my voice raspy from not speaking for hours. "Why him? What reason did you possibly have to take HIM?!" My only response was the loud 'boom' of thunder. "Why?!" I demanded. Suddenly, my knees gave out from beneath me. I was on the ground with my wet face in my hands within moments. The tears had finally come. And they were coming hard and fast.

To this very day, I still do not understand why God had taken my Grandfather from me. But I am no longer angry. I know he is watching over me and will guide me through the rest of my life until I join him one day.