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Regret Never Fades

Matthew Bornschein

       My Grandpa on my mother’s side was very important to me. I didn’t realize it until I was older, but he played a key role in who I am as a person today. He was a mentor for a young and jagged kid that desperately needed a role model. He spent a lot of time with me throughout the years, during which he taught me many lessons. Many times, it would be through board games like chess and RISK. Playing these games showed me how to stop, think, and strategize. Though being around the age of 8-10, my temperament usually got the better of me. I would usually lose and storm off in anger. If I ever had the chance to play again, I would want the game to go on forever.  

       My Grandpa was also a very wholesome and kind man who would always make people smile. He was like the Santa Claus of our family, physically and mentally. His laugh was jolly, and he had the greatest New York accent one could muster. He also taught me his vows of kindness to others and that the greatest reward is being able to make someone smile. Whether it be through actions or words, making people smile was always his goal. This trait was passed down to me; I also take pride in making people smile. He also said, “When someone truly smiles, they use two things: their face and their soul. That’s when you know you did your job well.” 

       The day before he died, he called almost my entire family. He called to check on how everyone was doing and secretly say goodbye. When he called our family, it was just my father, brother, and I because my mom was in Florida with my grandmother and him. We all gathered around my dad’s phone to talk to them. I was a little jittery because I had been pulled out of playing a video game. I was 12 at the time and in 6th grade, so I was oblivious to the situation. I only sat and listened for about 5 minutes before I ran back to my laptop. I didn’t even say goodbye.  

       The next day he was moved from the hospital to hospice care, where they gave him some powerful medicine so he could live his last day pain free. My grandma and mom stayed with him until about ten at night. For his last meal he had beef stroganoff and a big tub of ice cream. While eating he got to watch the Duke University basketball team on TV; he looked like a kid on Christmas. When my mom and grandma left, he seemed perfectly fine, and they thought they might have one more day with him. One of the last things my grandfather said to my mom was, “When I die, I will come back as a butterfly, and that’s when you’ll know everything is okay.” My grandfather passed peacefully the next morning.

       The next morning when my mom was crying alone in his room, she looked up and saw something amazing. On the walls, there were painted butterflies flying away into the sky. That’s when she stopped crying and went to the front desk to ask them about it. The women at the desk brought her back to the room and showed her the door, which had a metal butterfly on it. She said, “We put these here to show other people that the person has passed away.” My mom couldn’t believe what she heard. She remembered what my grandpa had told her, and it gave her a comforting feeling that everything was truly going to be okay. 

      When the news of my grandfather’s passing reached me, it was nighttime. I had gone to school that day and was upstairs doing homework. My father called me downstairs, and I thought it was time for dinner. When I got downstairs, I saw my dad and my brother both crying. I’ve seen my brother cry before, but I have never in my entire life seen my dad cry. That’s when I truly knew that something terrible had happened. He came over and gave me a hug. I asked what was wrong, and he told me that my grandpa had died. At first, all I felt was shocked, and a million things raced through my head. Then the tears came, and I started to completely lose it crying. That’s when the guilt set in; it was like a shotgun to the gut, and it was painful. Nowadays I try to see my grandfather’s death as his last lesson to me: always appreciate and cherish the things around you before they’re gone. 

© 2021 by ASCENT editors

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