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Final Kiss
PATTONVILLE HIGH SCHOOL
Final Kiss "Ready, Angel?" my grandfather said eagerly, putting on his best walking shoes. He was wearing his usual dark bluish-grey T-shirt and some worn out blue jeans. "Yeah, Gram'pa!" I said excitedly, watching closely as Grandpa worked the laces into a bow. I desperately wished I could do this. I brushed my long hair out of my eyes, and grasped the straps to my favorite pink overalls. We walked out of the small trailer door and down the creaking steps. The sun was partially hidden behind a cloud that looked like a giant bunny rabbit. The wind was spinning the fallen leaves in circles and whispering to the trees. It was cool outside and smelled of burning charcoal because there were many barbeques taking place. The streets were filled with children running and jumping, and in the lawns were grown-ups, laughing and drinking. I couldn't help but notice one man was whispering to another, I wondered what he could be saying. I skipped ahead and turned around facing my grandfather. "So where are we goin' today, Gramps?" I asked, trying carefully not to fall as my main concentration shifter from skipping backwards to what my grandfather's answer might be. "Well, where do you want to go?" Grandpa asked in reply. I turned around and walked next to my grandfather as we both pondered of places to go. After about a minute of silence with the exception of the faint voices of our neighbors behind us I asked "What about White Castle?" "It's a date." My grandfather replied, as he patted my head and took my hand, we walked in silence for the next few minutes. I had walked the same path about a million times and with each walk, I notice something new. My curiosity heightened as I found a bunny, on the side of the road. It reeked of death. "Is it dead, Grandpa?" I asked, extremely confused. I walked closer and when to touch it, when my grandfather stepped in and grabbed me. "Yes, it's dead." He said, with a hint of sadness in his voice. I looked up at him, and into his eyes searching for an answer to a question I didn't know. "It doesn't look dead," I whispered, as if I didn't want the bunny to hear me. To me this bunny looked normal. It's size; shape and color were all of normal character. It only looked as if it were sleeping. Grandpa just shook his head and motioned for me to continue walking. We went on and after a few nanoseconds of silence I began to ask questions. "What happens when you die, Grandpa?" I asked anxiously, hungry for an answer. Grandpa calmly took my hand, and sat me down on a nearby rock. There was an awkward silence for a small amount of time in which I figured he was thinking. I noticed two birds chasing each other, almost like they were playing tad. I suddenly wanted to plat. My curiosity vetoed this desire, and I focused my attention back on the old man sitting in front of me. He sat slumped on the rock beside me, his arms crossed, and his face was crunched, he was deep in thought. After what seemed like more than what my life consisted of passed by, he finally spoke. "Well, you stand before the good Lord, and based on the decisions you've made in life, and the choice you make then, determines whether you live on in peace for eternity, or you're damned to a life in hell," he spoke solemnly. "But...how do you do that if you're dead?" I blurted out in a whirl of confusion. "Because only your body dies. Your flesh and bones decay, but your soul lives on," he preached, carefully attempting to avoid confusion in my six-year-old mind. "Well...what's heaven like?" I interrogated him, as if he committed a crime. "No one knows that. The only ones that know, have no way to communicate with us," he spoke quietly, in an almost laughing kind of voice, "But I do know it's the best place there is. It's all you've ever dreamed of and nothing can compare." "If it's such a great place, then why do people cry when other people die?" There are about a million different answers to this question. However, none of them really explain anything. Is it because we won't ever get to see the people we love again? Or is it because we don't know what's next for them? In each case the answers are different, and not always clear. You could go on forever, and never find a solution. However, I will never forget what my grandfather's answer to that question was. It was, in fact, the answer, to the unanswerable question. My grandfather didn't say a word for the rest of the walk. We made it into White Castle; it was dead silent. I could hear the cashiers chatting in the back, the strong odor of onions made me nauseous. We ordered our usual chocolate shakes, and sat down for a break. Finally, my grandpa, with his hands firmly tightened around mine, answered a simple question-one simple question that would change my outlook on things for the rest of my life. "That single tear you see roll down a person's cheek, and into the crease of their lips, that slowly rolls into their mouth when someone they love dies, is not crying, but it is their loved one's final kiss."
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