Ever since I was little, my Dad's parents had not been my favorite people. They could be a little kooky sometimes, but the point was that they loved me. They sometimes disagreed with my parents, and I was always mean to them. Starting when I was ten, my grandmother "Grammy" brought me to school, and my grandfather "Papa" brought me home. I had always thought that I felt uncomfortable around them and that they treated me like a baby. (they called me one)I used to be very mean to my grandmother in the morning, and to Papa in the afternoon. In sixth grade, I used to rip up old school papers and throw them in his car. He used to say that someday I'd cry for him, and I thought that I wouldn't. He also said that he loved me to death and would give his life for me. One February day, when I was twelve, I was especially mean to him by throwing old cigarette ashes on his jacket. When my Dad found out, he told me to call and apologize, but I never did. My Mom wasn't happy either. The next day, February 13th- the day before Valentine's day, something terrible happened.When I was getting ready for school, my grandmother called in a panic and said that she couldn't take me to school that day. My dad called a couple of minutes later saying that Grammy found Papa on the floor and had to call an ambulance.Though I didn't expect to, I found myself praying for him to be OK. Not soon, after, he called to say that it was too late; that Papa had died. I felt numb, but I cried. I felt so guilty about how I treated him, and thought it was all my fault. I was assured that it wasn't and that he'd thought my teasing was funny, but it didn't help much. The whole funeral was hard, and I picked a song special for him. The whole thing had a negative affect on me, and for awhile I had bad dreams about various people dying. I took it harder than when my beloved grandmother died when I was 4, because I didn't understand at the time. I am now a lot less mean to my grandmother, though I still should be nicer. I really don't want to lose anyone else, and I don't ever want to feel that guilt again. To this day, I am still pretending that this didn't happen, trying not to let it be real, but sooner or later I'll have to face it. So, please: Be nice to people and treat them good when they're alive; you really just don't know if that's the last time you see them. Don't make the mistake that I made. Almost a year later, I still can't see the truth.