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I remember the blooming trees that turned from summer to fall as the leaves fell down drastically. My sister and I were both born in these seasons, her summer, and I fall. Somehow, our personalities matched those seasons too. Mary-Anne Rich was full of sunshine, relaxation, and summer love, whereas I had the magnitude of feeling colorful for the upcoming holidays Halloween and Thanksgiving. I am thankful and haunting to people I encounter.

That's where the similarities end. Mary-Anne and I were in different social groups in high school. She bonded with the jocks as a cheerleader; I bonded with the nerds as a science geek. My name wasn't as revolutionary either: Mark Carl Rich. That's as how ordinary you could make of a name like that. But we still had a typical bond as brothers and sisters usually do. Mary-Anne always convinced me to go on crazy adventures. At the ripe old age of 65, I can only recall two that stick out to me in my unpredictable brain. One scenario was when we stole our neighbor’s cat and swung it by its tale. Our neighbor, Ms. Phillips, was not amused by that at all. Another time, we decided to sneak into an R-rated movie as 12-year-olds. I can’t remember what movie we snuck into now. It was probably Boyz in the Hood. Yes, that was definitely the movie.

“Grandpa!” I turned around to see my thoughts interrupted by my 11-year-old granddaughter, Grace. She was as cute as a button and always had inquisitive questions to ask me. “Do you miss Grandma?”

Ouch. I wasn’t prepared for that scenario. Not today, not ever. Gloria was the most beautiful woman in my life. That’s why I wasn’t prepared to go on without her. Her death on December 5, 2039 at the age of 50 due to breast cancer was devastating to me. I couldn’t even recall the last argument we had. As crazy as it sounds, I would have given anything to have one more argument with her. Or to embrace her scented Divina by Vince Camuto perfume she put on every day before she conquered the world. Or to have that last kiss to reflect 25 years of intimacy, purest and non-vulgar at the least.

“Yes, dear, I miss your grandmother every day. I do whatever I can to hang onto her. It feels like I lost my best friend in the whole wide world.” I could sure use a sugar cane to fixate on right now.

“Okay. It’s just that, you don’t talk about Grandma ever since God called her up into Heaven.” Grace was still free of the bitterness of the world. I didn’t condone the fact that her parents told her a lie that my Gloria was up in the sky and not buried in the ground. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers.

“Would you like to hear about Grandma Gloria?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, sit on my lap.”

“Grandma Gloria was a lot like you, Grace: stubborn, feisty, and had a contagious laugh that had everyone else bursting into laugher. She was a great cook. I remember the time she made these delicious one-pan salmon and vegetables. But she left the oven open and almost caused a fire.

I was mad at her, but your grandmother had a way of getting even the bitterest soul to put on a smile.”

That’s when Grace and I smiled too. “That’s it? I want to hear more Grandpa!”

“Tomorrow. It’s way past your bedtime.”

I put Grace to bed, made sure her night light was on, and closed the door. I sighed. Grief is a bitch to deal with. I know that people die, but why my Gloria? Why do people worship an imaginary man in the sky just to believe in fairy tale dreams? My Gloria was a no-nonsense woman. When she was alive, she didn’t even pray often. And all of those hospital visits. The chemotherapy, the puking from those dastardly hospital veins locked into her, Mary, her kind but rough-looking nurse, telling her that she can beat this cancer if God wills it. I wish I could hang out with atheists; some of them are my friends. But what would that solve? Even I, as a child, had trouble deciding whether I believed in God or not. One minute, I would believe he was real as I went to church, then the next minute, I would be like an atheist. The truth is, I’m terrified of what is beyond the grave.

Do our eyes stay closed like we’re asleep? Do we keep our souls intact and let this almighty God prepare us for an awakening? Who knows? Also, who cares?

It was 10:30 p.m. I decided to watch some TV. I turned on Jeopardy! I fell asleep.

The next day, I woke up in a better mood, grateful to be alive at sixty-five years old. I needed to see what I can do to make my life and (eventual) death to become wonderful. I could always start to be able to search into pyres. I’m not Hindi, but hey, that’s never ever stopped anyone from going the distance with their deaths. Hey, I just made a Disney reference. Grace’s parents would have been proud of me for that. Speaking of Grace, I better wake her up. After all, I’m only her legal guardian. I remember that too much. There was too much chaos in my life. The endless bills, the mental illness my son suffered from after he was diagnosed bipolar 1, and my own heart condition. The doctors warned me that I had to stay away from sweets.

Anyway, back to Grace.

I walked up the creaky stairs (that damn landlord should have fixed them by now) and gently knocked on Grace’s door. “Grace?”

I didn’t hear anything.

I opened the door and found that the window was opened.

I called the police.

“Emergency 911.”

“I think my granddaughter is missing.”

“Mr. Rich, do you remember when you last saw your daughter?”

“My granddaughter.”

“Right, granddaughter.”

“We were both in the living room together and I had put her to bed.”

“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“Maybe her parents’ graves. She was devastated when she found out that they didn’t want to take care of her. My son had bipolar disorder and killed himself last year, and his wife died two years later in a drowning accident.”

“Where are the graves?”

“106 Troy Avenue. Valleyville, CT.”

“We’ll update you with any info. It will be alright, Mark.”

“You know what, I can actually find her myself.”

I wrote down the address and called for an Uber. Twenty minutes later, I found Grace near the godforsaken graves.

“Grace! I was so worried about you! Why did you leave without telling me where you were going?”

“Oh, Grandpa, I just miss my parents so much. I don’t understand why they abandoned me. Us!”

“You hush up. Your mother and father loved you with all of your hearts. They just didn’t have the strength to pull through, baby. I know that I won’t be around forever, but maybe we can help you with those independent skills your Mom was always concerning herself with.

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything.”