When I was about five, I looked into the world that life had put in front of me. I wasn't sure why my life was how it was and why these types of things happened to me. I was five, I was filled with curiosity and a lack of understanding in the most simple topics of life. I used to live with my mom, my two aunts, my uncle, my cousin and my grandparents. We used to live in the suburbs, and almost everyday my grandfather would take me for a walk around the neighborhood. “Living in the suburbs gives you a chance to experience life at its greatest” my grandfather used to say.

I used to think that it wasn't like that at all, there were no tall buildings around and although we didn't live in the middle of nowhere, it did feel like it. Brick houses was everything that surrounded me in that place, our house was one of them too. My grandfather told me that we lived in one of the safest places that used to be the one of the most dangerous places during the 90’s. Owned and constructed by drug lord Pablo Escobar, the man our country is known for.

The walks with my grandfather consisted mainly on discussing topics like these, where I was eager to learn because I wanted to replace the five year old ignorance with topics like humanity and science. When we walked back home and I had learned something new, I went to my bedroom that we had built when my mom and I moved in. I used to sit there and let T.V wash everything I had learned away.  My grandfather used to work at home, he was a carpenter. People used to contact him for jobs they needed done. He used to get money, go out and come back, it was like a routine. At first I didn't pay a lot of attention to this, but as the weeks passed, it seemed very unusual. Every time he came home, my grandmother would deny talking to him, it was like he had done something wrong. I didn't understand this, but I was too scared to ask why. Instead of questioning my family, I questioned myself, and as every kid, I found the guilt in myself. I couldn't find the answers to the questions I didn't have at the moment, so I decided to stop thinking about it. My grandfather was a wise man, he knew a lot about life and wrote about morality but he never quite applied it to his. Today, when I talk to my grandmother about him, she tells me that he didn't do a lot of good things but that he tried his best. I don't think that was always quite enough for them. He used to sit in the backyard and smoke. He smoked about twenty cigarettes a day. Lately, he used to smoke more than he took me for walks. Finding cigarettes laying around the house wasn't as surprising as it used to be about three weeks ago. I started to feel the change in the air. Nobody was quite the same, or maybe they were always like this, but as I grew up I realized who the people surrounding me truly were.
One night, we were all in the living room waiting for dinner, and for my grandfather, who these days used to show up late. We were discussing what we were going to do for Christmas that year when he walked though the door. I was happy that he was home because I didn't see him that often anymore. I was going to hug him but then I realized that he looked a little different. He could barely stand on his feet. My grandmother suddenly broke her silence vow and yelled across the house.
“I work very hard to bring food to this house and to pay for you children’s education and you don't bring a thing” she said “Spend it all drinking, go out and do the same”.
I suddenly understood. I understood what all the silence was about and why everyone was angry and disappointed all the time. I understood why he went out so much. But I didn't understand why he didn't try to change. Lately he wasn't the same. My eyes trailed across the room, I observed everyone, they didn't seem very happy. My aunt’s eyes watered, she was about 14, the same age I am now. She ran into the bedroom and since I didn't know what to do, I followed her. She opened my cousin’s closet, which consisted of a wood board attached to the sides of the wall. She sat there and cried. I sat next to her and I cried too, I was very confused at that moment, so it was the only thing I could do. We sat there together for about five minutes until the wood snapped, leaving us laying in a pile of clothes. My cousin came in, she was mad, tears and anger filled her eyes while she stood there looking at us. We were all sad, we were all mad, we were all crying, but for different reasons. We ended up all sitting in the pile of clothes until we couldn't be sad anymore.
The next day came and went by very quickly. My grandmother, as usual, didn't talk to him. Nobody talked to him, so he took me for a walk. It seemed as if I was the only person he could talk to. I think he was as confused as I was but we both didn't ask questions. We walked more than usual that night, we talked about Christmas, two days more and it would be here. He told me how all the family was going to gather together and celebrate. Christmas is a big thing in a lot of countries, but nobody celebrates it better than Latin Americans, instead of staying home and going to sleep early in order to get your present the next morning, we have to stay up until twelve at least to get our present. People gather outside in the streets and celebrate. My grandfather and I talked about how much people liked Christmas and the hope it brought. That night we walked home slowly, knowing that we didn't really want to go back.

Christmas day was here and all my family gathered around the streets with friends and even people we didn't know. It was fun, I hadn't seen my family smile like that in such a long time. I don't remember my grandfather being with us during Christmas, and that might have been the reason why. It was twelve am, my family gathered under the tree and opened their presents, none from my grandfather. When celebrations had passed and the neighborhood was calm, my grandfather showed up home, and we all acted like nothing had happened.
New Years was a lot like Christmas, but the celebration was even bigger. There are no presents or surprises for New Years, but we did get one. That night, I found out that my grandfather wanted to die. Yes, he said it like that. He stood there in the middle of the street wearing his blue jacket telling us how he wanted to die. We didn't know what to say, sadness and a mix of disappointment was all I could feel at that moment. After he had told us that, he left, just like he did on Christmas day. He left us feeling very confused and not as enthusiastic as we were before. My grandmother told us not to worry, that he didn't know what he was saying, that he didn't mean any of it, but we just couldn't get the words out of our minds. We kept on celebrating but we all knew it wasn't  quite right. The new year had come, and so did new and better ourselves, or so I thought. It was January, it was the beginning of a better life. My aunt’s quinceañera was coming soon, we were all very excited for this. A couple of days into January and two weeks away from her quinceañera, my grandfather went to the hospital for a regular check up. He looked normal and we all though he was alright. My mom visited him in the hospital and he started to say goodbye. My grandfather had a watch on, my mom offered to take it home but he said no, keep it for yourself. That day my mom and I went to pick up my dad from the airport and she received a call. My grandfather was dead, he didn’t survive the heart checkup. His New Years wish was granted.

I was very sad, I loved my grandfather a lot. Although I was very small, I felt like he was one of the few people that could understand me. He was only forty-nine, it wasn't fair for him to die. When my family got the news, they were all sad. Sadness was a common feeling lately, but this one was much more strong. The day my grandfather was buried, a lot of people showed up. White flowers were piled on top of his grave, you could barely see his name. Since that moment, I wanted to know why dead people receive more flowers than those who are still alive. I realized that regret is stronger than gratitude. I never bought him flowers, because I never did while he was still alive. I wish he was still here, because my life would be a lot better. I just wish he had taken me for a walk that night.