It has been 9 years since my grandfather died, a man who wanted to silently rule our world with his miraculous power of art. The man, who was the father of my mother, was really wise with the relatives who always came every Sunday to eat brunch at his house. He always started off brunch saying a really inspirational quote:

-"Cry a river, build a bridge, then walk your ass over it."

My grandpa, who we always called "Barbas" (which sounds close to the word "barba" which means beard in spanish (he always had a beard)) had always dreamt about finishing a portrait of his beloved wife, my grandma, who had died several years before. My mother always tells me how my grandmother enjoyed seeing Barbas drawing anything he could physically see or mentally imagine.

-"Your grandma always found a different, but yet magical, source of light in your grandfather's eyes every time he got a pencil and started drawing on his art block."

Every day my grandfather tried and tried to perfection his portrait of his "beloved angel", but he always messed up. He never felt satisfied with the paintings he had done. He felt that he had to do something nobody had ever seen, just so the world could understand his platonical love. It seemed so uncanny how a masterpiece for the eyes of all the rest looked like a true disaster for his heart.

Throughout the years, due to his advanced age, logically his muscles wouldn't be by his side. It was to the point where somebody had to sustain his arm so it wouldn't fall, as he told us where to move so he could paint his portrait. We had to take him for medical help, although a big amount of us knew that we were witnessing the last days of our dearest grandpa. We took him to the West Houston Medical Center, with the desperation and depression in our broken souls. We visited him almost every week, we intended to ask if he needed us to do anything involving the portrait he never finished about our grandmother, but he always refused to answer our helping question, he would always change the subject to something else.

On May 21st 2012, my grandfather called my mother so she could take me to the hospital to visit him. It was around 7:24pm, but it the evening seemed so young, so happy. It seemed like it was barely the day's beginning. His room was on the third floor, room 4A to be exact. I knocked tenderly as I asked if I had the permission to enter the hospital room. But, there was no answer. Despite the chilling sound of nothing, I walked in slowly into the room. As I walked in, I saw my half-dead grandfather gasping for his last breaths on his deathbed. He was whiter than snow and somewhat pale. I went and sat down on a wooden chair that was placed on the right side of the bed. Once I had sat down, he slowly turned towards me and started to speak.

-"My dear Sebastian, I see a light in you that I never saw in the shining stars that protect us over night. Every day, I have gained more and more confidence in the fact that you will help me solve a puzzle that I have never solved yet."

He gave me a folded photograph of him and my grandma on their famous honeymoon to Vancouver in 1955. Once he had given the photograph to me, he said something that left me speechless

-"Orchidaceae Secare."

He closed his eyes eternally once he had spoken those two words. I had so many feeling inside of me that I couldn't choose which was the main one. Confusion, depression, numbness, anger etc.. After crying myself a river, I decided to walk back home. As I was walking along the empty roads, the curiosity to see what was written was gaining importance. The back of the photograph only had three lines written with my grandfathers old pen, which put:

-"Sebastian, take these orders has if your life relied on them. Go to my house and go to my bedroom, there you will see a door with a lock. 7653."

Orchidaceae Secare and 7653, I was left like a blank sheet of paper. The note and his final words had no meaning. I decided to help my grandfather out no matter how hard it was to find the answer to his problem. I went to my Latin teacher's house, whom I have a really close friendship with. Mr. Martin explained that my grandfather didn't really know how to explain what he was trying to say but, he managed to find out that he said something related with "cut the orchid". I didn't really understand why my grandfather would want me to cut some orchids, he never was a gardener. Or at least I never knew it. Mr. Martin took me back home since it was really late. He wished me good luck on this mysterious adventure I was about to lay my hands on. I asked my mom, who was mourning still about the devastating news, about the orchids and if he had ever harvested any. My mom had no clue about what I was talking about.

Once I was done explaining everything that had happened during the last 24 hours, I asked my mom if she could take me to my grandfathers house. Once my mother had stopped the car in front of his house, I ran and opened the door with suspense, not knowing what I was going to find out. I went to his room and found the door he was describing. It had a lock where I had to unlock it with four numbers. Catching me by suprise, I reached to my pocket and got the folded photograph and copied the four numbers that were written on to the lock. To my luck, it opened easily. I opened the door but it was really hard to see what was inside it. I grabbed a lighter that was on my grandfather's night bed and used it to light up the small closet. There you could see nothing but my grandpa's clothes hung in order. But if you looked closely enough, you could see a portrait of his of some small orchids. My mind was blown. I couldn't believe my eyes. Slowly everything was starting to make sense. But the question remained permanently still in my head, why would my grandfather want me to cut off the orchids?

I had to do what Barbas told me to do before he died, it was his last will and he trusted me to do it for him. So I took the feeling of shame off me and I decided to do what I was ordered to do. I cut them off with care and dedication, trying not to ruin the rest of his drawing. I didn't know what I could do with the remaining piece of his portrait. It was a mysterious puzzle I had to complete. I sat down on his bed overthinking about what he'd want me to do with the cut-out pieces. As I was thinking, I decided to glare at the old photograph. Out of nowhere, I saw that my grandma was holding flowers in the photograph. It just came up to me in all of a sudden. I didn't say a word because my mind wanted me to run to where his unfinished portrait was before I could suggested another thing. I found the portrait in his room, with a gap in my grandmother's hands. I got some glue and stuck the orchids on to her empty hands. The portrait was complete.