The Greatest Times, Thankful Memories

In the morning, the hallways crowded like a busy airport, but by evening, everything was empty and abandoned. I could feel myself shaking, and my body felt tense. His hospital bed was flat, and he already seemed like he was gone. His soul was still there, but his body was absent.

My parents had walked out of the room for reasons I still didn't understand, so I took my chance to make conversation with him. After my parents came back, my mom offered to show grandpa a video of one of my performances. It was too late for him to speak, but he managed to nod and shake his head.

My mom pulled up a video of my latest performance in April. I held his hand and watched the video with him, while also taking in what little time I had left with him.

"I just performed at that retirement home recently. People were asking me when you were going to come back." My uncle told me. My eyes were wide with excitement.

"Really? That's awesome! I'd love to join on Thursday."

I sang my heart out that day. I had met a new pianist who played with my Uncle Larry. Nathan and Larry sounded great together, and getting to perform with them was so exciting. I would always get questions about my singing.

"How do you do it? Were you nervous? You sure you weren't lip-syncing? How are you brave enough to do that?" I was always open to any questions, and always made sure to give everyone a mannered reply. I could feel the pressure of his hand holding mine as the video went on. This only made it harder on me, knowing that every second would quickly pass.

Every year from kindergarten through fifth grade, I heard the same rewarding statement from my mom. Parts of the family and even friends were coming to see me perform in the school talent shows. Even in small local competitions, I always had a handful of loved ones there in the audience watching me, supporting me, and cheering me on.

"I called grandma and grandpa. They'll be coming to see you perform tonight." My mom told me. My small self was filled with absolute joy. My elementary school was packed with students, but also held a kind community and staff.

My parents would sit anxiously in the crowd during talent competitions. After the shows, they would always talk about how nervous they were, and how they were worried that I wouldn't even place.

By 2013, I had earned five trophies from all kinds of talent competitions. Grandma passed away that year, but grandpa stayed strong, and I continued to sing, hoping that she could see trying to make her proud.

"Rachel, you always meant absolutely everything to grandma. You were her angel, and always remember this. She's looking down on you, and she's so proud." Grandpa would tell me. I took that statement to heart, thinking that whenever I sang, grandma would be listening. Smiling deeply and listening to my songs.

I looked down at grandpa's blanket. It was soft and large enough to cover his entire body, what little was left of it. The gray blanket was full of dogs of all different sizes and colors. I felt pleased with the sight of it. I had made a cake for grandpa's birthday, drew out a colorful card, and bought that blanket for him. Our family had a small celebration in his hospital room, and grandpa enjoyed every minute of it. This blanket made me happy, knowing that grandpa loved it, and was able to eat cake before it was too late for him.

As he continued to hold my hand, I resisted as my eyes fought against me, begging to flood with tears. My eyes gave up, for they knew that I wouldn't cry in front of my parents, or even grandpa himself. This wasn't how I wanted him to remember me. I strived for him to remember me in the best way possible.

With getting to hear me sing one last time, I fought hard to stay strong. His pressure still gripped onto my hand, and I continued to watch the end of the video with him. When the applause roared, my mom turned off her phone. I turned to my dad to see that he had recorded my last moment with grandpa. I nodded to him.

"Oh, you recorded it. Good idea dad." I said to him lowly. Three days later, my grandpa had passed away. I could never stop thinking back to my last moment with him. The love for his birthday blanket, his stuffed easter bunny keeping him company, and the pressure of holding his hand one last time. Every night I clutch his blanket close to me, along with his stuffed easter bunny to remind me of him.

I was grateful for my mom showing those videos, knowing that grandpa could see me one more time doing what I did best. I would keep singing for grandma, and I would keep singing for him. Just as I did in that back car seat, small and full of energy.

"Grandpa?"

"Yeah Rachel?"

"When I grow up, I'm gonna sing and dance on stage."