Was there ever a day where everything was sad but everything was going by so fast that your emotions couldn’t catch up? 2nd grade was one of the hardest years of my life.

In my classroom, I remember my teacher answering the phone. She hung up and looked at me. Her face had a serious, yet compassionate look; as if she could feel my emotions inside of me and was already trying to comfort them. Then she said, “ Go ahead and head to the office, your parents are picking you up early today.”

I leave the classroom with an odd feeling. I know something's wrong; I just don't know what. I walk down the long hall. The quiet seems sinister. I'm not used to being in the hall while the other kids are in their classes. I approach my locker, entering the four digit combo. I grab my backpack from inside. closing it with a gentle creak, so as not to disturb the silence. I continue down the expansive hallway, heading toward the office. Each step my feet make echos with a mounting intensity. The odd feeling begins to morph into fear. Something is definitely wrong now. My pace gets quicker. The office door is just ahead. I'm nearly there. Ten steps away. I grab the handle, slipping inside. The door closes behind me with a soft thud.
The principal sits behind a desk. "Ah Hanna, there you are. Your parents should be here shortly," He says.
"Principal Abercrombie, Am I in trouble?"
The principal's face softens, "No. Not at all."
"Then could you tell me why I'm here?"
"Well–" he shifts his gaze away from me. "it's best I let your parents explain it to you."
"Ok…" An uneasy feeling settles over me once again. I wait with bated breath, for what seems like an eternity.

The office door opens. Mom and dad are standing in the doorway, their faces ashen. Now I know something is wrong. "What is it?" I inquire.
Mom gives me an uneasy look, she tries to hide it with a smile, but I know—I can always tell when something's off. Dad gives principal Abercrombie a brief greeting before turning to me. "Ready to go kiddo?" His face is the same as Mom's, although he does a better job of hiding it—I can't always tell what he's feeling.
"Ok," I agree. The three of us walk out to the parking lot. I can feel it radiating off of them, like a sickening stench. When we get to the car, I get in the back seat like always. Mom and Dad also get into the back, on either side of me—weird. The air feels heavy.
"Honey," Mom utters in a fragile voice. "There's no easy way to tell you this…" Long silence. Deafening. "Your grandfather has just passed away."
My world spins. The air is noxious. I can't breathe. I choke, tears streaming down my face. I try to scream, sound won't come out. I lean over and burry myself into mom. Dad is always a comforting presence, but right now I need mommy. I can't breath. Only tears, only pain. I now know what the feeling from earlier was, Grandfather's receding warmth. In my mind I see his smile, hear his laughter, feel his grace—I'll never know them again. I'm not sure how long Mom and I stay in the backseat, clutching each other for. I become vaguely aware of the vehicle moving. Dad must have gotten into the driver's seat. The drive home never felt so long.