If death were a person

A million emotions have rushed through my body today. The main ones that stick out are: uncontrollably happy, a few pee your pants from laughing moments, even peaceful, but the one that is digging its claws in me, is hate. I feel like it's sitting on my chest, trying to use all its strength to collapse it. Might as well make a home on my shoulder. Better yet, maybe it should just nestle in  under my skin. Heck, I'm sure it expects a continental breakfast in the morning. Listen here. <I've been listening to this all day.

To start off, I had an extremely wonderful day! One of my baby nieces' turned 10 and whats a birthday without a party? Amiright? So, we did just that! PARTIED! She had a friend birthday party. There was cake, ice cream, limbo, presents, toss-the-tiki, pinata, music, the whole works. Man, I almost forgot what it was like to be 10 and not a care in the world. I almost forgot how exciting it is to receive a pink sea shell from a friend and almost cry from the overwhelming joy in my body. I almost forgot how fun it was to make up games to play (and boy, do I know the person to go to if I ever need help, a certain girl that just turned 10 today..). I almost forgot what it was like to collect the most random of objects and cherish them so much that only a select few individuals could set eyes on such objects. 

There should be a rule, that days like this can't be ruined. That the happiness should linger for the next 24 hours. Well, mine was cut short... Hey, at least I got to finish the party? Right?..

After things started to settle down. (Do things ever start settling down with 7 10year olds?)

My sister told me she had to tell me something. I really can't recall what was said. I just know I didn't process it at first. I didn't understand what she was saying, but instantly a lump started to form in my throat. Once I forced myself to understand, I was out the door and speeding down the street heading for I-15. 

She told me that my grandma was in the ER in Brigham City. They think she has spinal meningitis, and she only has less than 24 hours to live.

Now, I'm at the point where you are questioning why I'm full of hate, and not sadness. 

I'm full of hate because I loath death. If death were a person, we would not be on good terms. 

My grandma has a very big spot in my heart. She took care of me. When my parents got a divorce, she was the one that cooked me dinners, found rocks/seeds/bugs in my pockets while doing laundry, along with laundry- she folded my clothes perfectly (even at my young age I was amazed), bought me dresses, preped me for Jr. Peach Queen, meticulously did my hair, bought me socks with ruffles, disciplined me, put my blanket in the dryer before I went to bed, made sure to buy ice cream cones for me, let me play Lego's in her hair salon while she would "gossip" with the ladies, letting me help make raspberry jam/cheese balls/peppermint dessert with her, and her giving me gas money because she wanted me to come visit more. The biggest thing I'll never forget is, she loved me. When my parents were off being immature and stupid, she was there. Not only for me, but for my brothers too!

Sorry to cut this short. I'll finish it later. 

Oh, 

P.s. I am sad. I don't think I've cried so much in my life... 

Thomas Edison’s last words were ‘It’s very beautiful over there’. I don’t know where there is, but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s beautiful.

-John Green