For those who may not know much about me or my story, I was raised by my grandparents. While my twin brother and I were small and oblivious to the fact, our parents were not in a very happy relationship. We were raised under good and healthy circumstances with loving caretakers, one of which has recently passed away.

My Papa was the worker in our family, and even though he didn't always enjoy his job, he kept a roof over our heads and food in our fridge. As my Papa got older, things started to change. With increasing health problems, he often took medications and went to the doctors, especially with continuous and worsening heart problems and high blood pressure. Even though I was really too young to understand, I knew it wasn't a good thing.

After heart surgery that we thought would fix his palpitations, we had an issue with him possibly being brain dead. The nurses said right in front of me that he might not be able to even talk again. After weeks of learning to talk again and taking therapy to walk, he did get better, and he came home soon after. All seemed to be good and well.

He even started driving, which they said might not have even been possible weeks earlier. Months after he returned from the hospital, things were back to normal. He picked on me and made fun of me like usual, and I never thought I'd be so happy to hear him mock me like he used to do before the whole ordeal.

Unexpectedly, though, he died on his sleep on May 5th 2011. For the longest time, even through his funeral, it all seemed kind of surreal. He was just gone. It felt blank again, like it had been when he was in the hospital for all those months. My dad was around more, after being gone for complicated reasons that I'd like not to explain.

He was sort of a replacement for a while. He helped me back up on my feet when I didn't know I'd even fallen. When the one who had raised me was gone, now my biological father was there. It mended the cracks in a way, even after a whole year of him being gone.

I'd like not to think about how he isn't here, and how he can't laugh anymore like he used to, but sometimes you have to face those feelings. On the anniversary of his death, I cried and I was upset, but there was a shoulder for me to cry on. My dad was there for me, and he told me that he would be for as long as he could be. Since he was raised by my Papa as well, he knew what I was going through, if not more.

In the time that I was broken, he helped fix the cracks without even knowing it, and even though my Papa is gone, now my dad is around to love me and be with me and see me grow up just like papa would do if he was here. I'm thankful for the time that I had with my Papa, and even though he is gone, he brought my father and I together again.

If you're listening, Harold G. Hale, I love you and miss you with all my heart. We all do down here, and I guess we'll see you again another day. I hope that someday I can say that maybe you're proud of me.