Eighteen
AUGUST-16 YEARS OLD
When Mom and Dad call a family meeting we always know it is going to be bad news. I don’t think I can handle any more bad news. Even when you prepare yourself, nothing really ever prepares you for it. Especially death. Even though we know it’s going to happen to every one of us, it’s still always a shock somehow.
“Mr. Willard,” Dad is sad, “had a stroke last night.”
Audrey is already crying but I, well, I think I am in shock.
“His funeral will be day after tomorrow,” Dad looks at me. That does it, I start crying and it was almost like going through Pawpaw dying all over again.
Suddenly, I am six years old holding my Pawpaw’s hand again.
“It’ll be okay, Kelly. You’ll see,” Dad says.
Something about the way he says it makes me think of Ty.
Then, I was th
