At the age of nine I was very aware of death and what happened when people died, though I was not sure if "ghosts" or "demons" existed as I was told they didn't.
On the eve of my tenth birthday my grandmother passed away. I heard adults cry and other children weep as if it were the end of the world. Yet I felt blank I had no feeling over it. My mother thought there was something wrong when I didn’t cry at night or decide to not have a party tomorrow. She asked how I felt and I said nothing to her. After what seemed forever she sighed and tucked me into bed. The party was not very fun because no one showed up due to the fact that all of my friend’s parents felt that we needed time alone. I was mad. After a small family party we went out to eat at a fancy restaurant, although no one knew that at this restaurant was the one my grandmother used to deliver roses too. The one of two places she called her home away from home, the other being her garden. The workers took one look at who we were and denied us service, my mom stepped up to say something but my father stopped her and we just left. As I stood there frozen I saw someone near a back entrance. "GRANDMA!!" I screamed as loud as I could and ran towards her or should I say through her. As I passed through her I felt warm and comforted and as if I had just walked into a bakery. I ran into the door behind her and was knocked out. I awoke around fifteen minutes later in a hospital. I was then taken home.
At the funeral a sad song was playing and then the casket was closed, before I even saw what was inside…I would perhaps never know. As they lowered the casket into the ground she was gone forever.
I’ve seen her a lot in my mirror, during class, and at Casey’s restaurant. I am now a 13 years old, happy and healthy. Hey who says ghost stories have to be scary?