“Are you feeling okay?” I asked crouching next to my brother’s bed. He was having another nightmare and it was the third one he had this week. The death of our grandfather was really working over his psyche. Our grandfather was our rock and our heart. When our father faltered, our grandfather was there. Our father did his best bringing up my brother and I by himself and most of the time he did a phenomenal job. Cancer took my mother and he worked at least two jobs and made dinner for us most nights. Our grandparents stepped in on the nights he got called in or had to work overtime to make ends meet.
My grandfather was the one who was always there and was always at all the sporting events my father couldn’t make it to. He was the loudest supporter at our cross country meets and knew the name and stats of everyone on my team. We all loved him.
Grandpa did most of the heavy lifting at home and his death left us reeling. A freak car accident when he was out for a walk and our grandfather was gone forever. The man who hit him called 911 before he fled, but there is still some debate on what actually happened. My brother was the first one on the scene and is the one who is having the worst time. I just wish I could take his place. After all, my grandfather’s death is my fault.