Today was the first time I had seen my dad cry. 

My dad wanted me to make a portrait of his father. My grandfather who had died before I was born. So I decided to ask my dad questions about him so I could incorporate some of that into the portrait. Suddenly my dad had said, “He died right in front of my eyes.” His voice soon faltered and his eyes glistened over. The glow of the tv reflected off of his welling eyes. He covered his eyes with his hand, his body shaking as he silently sobbed. I stood there for a second, in shock, my own eyes welling up.

This is so hard to write without crying. 

I hurried into the kitchen telling my mother what happened. She rushed over and sat beside him on the couch. My mom whispered sweet things and rubbed circles on my dads shoulder. I just stood there, my arm wrapped around my dad. Tears streaming down my face and blurring my vision. My dads shoulders stopped shaking, The empty silence subtle. The only sound heard was the soft sniffles of both my mother and I. 

My heart swelled at the thought of how much my dad is like my grandfather. Ambitious, cunning, smart, intelligent, kind. My mom says that my dad is like my grandfather and I grew up to be like both my dad and grandfather. Sometimes I think that I don’t deserve that title. I am like no one in my family. I can be selfish and stupid at times. I lack bravery in some tasks. I lack common traits that are needed in a loving daughter and prideful descendant. But one thing is for certain:

I am the proud daughter of my parents, the proud descendent of my grandparents. The proud member of this family. When I think of how blessed I am to have such an amazing family that believe in me. I just think that I need to make them proud. 

One time about a couple weeks ago I was walking across the fied from my house to meet my friends who were near the Spanish class building. Dillon was the only person there and he had his face in his hands. It was pounding rain, both of us were soaking wet. It might have been rain on his face but I swore I saw tears on his pale cheeks. 

“Dillon what’s wrong?” I asked my hand on his heaving shoulder. 

“My backpack, someone stole it and hid it somewhere.” He said his blue-green eyes scanning my face as he spoke to me in the sound of rain accompanying his voice.

“Well then we have to find it.” I said determined to help him.

“ I checked everywhere it could possibly be but it’s no where.” He said his voice miserable.

“We just have to search harder. Look in unlikely places.” I said as I plopped my backpack on a dry spot and took my jacket off. It was soaking wet so it wasn’t like it was gonna keep me warm anyway. 

I walked along the concrete trail with Dillon beside me. His face was stark. I squeezed his wrist reassuringly hoping it would help ease him. He looked at me and nodded before we continued on.

We stopped in front of the large green storage crates that belonged to the school. I honestly don’t know why they have storage crates in the first place but I wasn’t too worried about them at the moment. We went behind the crates where there was a smaller , a dent on the top with rainwater pooling in it. Now here’s the part that made me want to scream. The backpack we were looking for was on top of the humongous storage crate that was twice the size of me. I knew that Dillon had a fear of heights. He eyed the crate like he was going to strike it with lightning any minute. I myself am terrified of heights but at that moment I had to shove my fears in a box, seal it, and throw into a corner of my mind.

“Kanmani you don’t have to do this. We could just tell a teacher or the principal or something and they can find out who did it.” The blonde haired boy looked down a me as I shook my head no.

“Dillon that’s just gonna make everything complicated. Let’s just get your backpack down and go.” 

He nodded. But then I knew he was starting to regret that when I started climbing the smaller crate. The rain was making it hard to keep my  balance with the rain pouring and I was trying hard not to look down. My rain boots started slipping and Dillon had his arms out too catch me if I fell. I reached as much as I could to grab the handle of the backpack. 

Curse my short arms and legs.

I pulled hard on the backpack and my heart pounded in my ears as the backpack fell backwards. My hand discharging quickly so it didn’t tear of from the impact of the heavy backpacks fall. Dillon quickly grabbed his backpack then put his arms back out so I didn’t fall miserably. I closed my eyes and jumped. Two seconds late I was back on the ground with Dillons arms wrapped tightly around me. 

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!!!” He said hugging me.

“Dillon, I uh, still need to Um, BREATH.” 

Right at that moment I thought “ Grandpa, are you proud of me?”

Every time I do something I want to do so that if my grandfather was still alive he would like it.

I want to be just as awesome as he was. As my dad is. As I would like to be.

Goodnight grandpa.

I love you.