The first death that affected me

When I was 7, my grandfather passed away. He was my mom's dad and the first of my grandparents to pass away. He came to America from Poland 16 years before he died, so he still had a heavy Polish accent. I only saw him once a year, and when I did, I didn't understand him very well. The only memory I really have of him is him sitting at his kitchen table and smoking and talking with my parents and my aunt and grandmother. I think that all these things made me sort of unaffected by his death. I didn't really know what death was at 7 years old. I think I was sad because my mom and grandmother and aunt were sad. There's a picture of me from the funeral home, I'm wearing my little suit and sitting in a chair in the hallway. I think I spent a lot of time in that chair during the viewings for my grandfather, away from the grieving.

When I was 11, I was friends with a boy named Michael, who was a grade below me. We were in the Cub Scouts together, and we spent time at each other's house. One day at school we had an argument about something, I forget what it was now. We didn't speak to each other for a few days. Then the weekend came and I probably forgot about the argument.

On Monday we found out that Michael and his father had taken a boat on a fishing trip over the weekend. I think there was a storm of some kind, and they never came back. They found Michael first, and his dad a week or so later. They had a funeral for both of them, and we went as a Cub Scout troop. Michael was buried in his Cub Scout uniform, but his father had a closed casket, because he was in the water for so long. I felt so bad for Michael's mom, he was an only child, and she had just lost her entire family.

I also felt terrible about the argument I had with Michael. I spent a lot of time wishing that I had spoken to him before the weekend, instead of having our last words to each other be in anger. And after all, he was only 10 years old. 10 years olds don't die, older people do. When you're 10 or 11 years old, or hell, even 40 years old, you think you have all the time in the world. But sometimes you don't.