Draft #2 (a few chandes and techniques used)

I walked into church feeling worse than ever. I saw many pictures of him and it made me even more sad. I looked around and I saw my sad lonely Nana talking with a bunch of my Papa’s friends. My Aunt walked in front of the whole church and began telling stories about her dad.
* * *
The tears dripped from my eyes after my mom got a call from my dad saying that my Papa had passed away. I was sobbing so much it felt like there was a lake at the bottom of my cheeks.
I got home still crying inside trying to take my mind off of the sad thought. I soon found out that he had died from a terrible case of cancer. Struggling with it months before I struggled to hold in the tears but they slowly came through. It was a beautiful summer day and I don't know how anything that sad could have happened. The summer of July 17, 2004. Sitting as still and quiet as possible in my room I tried to take my mind off of the sadness. I started to think. When is the funeral going to be? I was too sad to want to know. He was the first of my closest family members to pass away. I heard a big thumping on my door. "Are you okay Bailey?” my mom said in a sweet voice as she walked in my room. "Yah I'm fine." I told her not telling her the truth. I put my head down on my pillow and settled down for a nap which surely cleared my mind.
I walked into the church and my stomach began to ache like a big rumble of thunder. I have to make through the funeral I told myself a million times. But the sad thought of hat word didn’t make it any better. I looked around the church and saw familiar faces and faces that I had never seen before. The streaming sunlight shined through the glass windows making the pictures of my Papa stand out even more. I took my seat a little bit far from the church and sat with my brother. Is he feeling the same way that I am? My Aunt walked in front of the church and began a story. Here it goes I thought to myself.
I was crying every where now using many tissues. From stories that my aunt and dad were telling I started to think of some of my own stories I remembered of him. When we went to Hawaii, the picture of him holding me as a baby, when he always sat on his green recliner, what a great runner he was. But most of all, the smile he always had on his face. Unfortunately he never got to see me play softball at my best.
I couldn't hold it in anymore. The tears rained from my eyes. It hurt more than ever. I set my head on my mom's shoulder as she comforted me and she wiped my rosy red wet cheeks. After the service I felt a lot better. Everybody kept coming up to me and saying "Is that your Papa?" And I would happily and proudly answer "Yes."
Five years have passed now. I still think of my Papa time and time again. Seeing a big smile on his face on a picture in my room. But I can still picture him in my head and all the great times we had together.