Draft #3

I walked into the church dragging my feet and feeling worse than ever. I saw many pictures of him and it made me even sadder. I looked around and saw my sad and 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 the call from my dad. I got home still crying and 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 tried 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 very still and quiet 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 lieing. I put my head down on my pillow and settled down for a nap.
I walked into the church and my stomach began to ache. I have to make through the funeral I told myself a million times. I looked around the quiet church that only had a few small whispers in it. 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 towards the middle of the church and sat with my brother and mom. Is he feeling the same way that I am? My Aunt walked in front of the church and began telling a story about my Papa. 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.
The tears rained from my eyes. They wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t hold them in. I set my head on my mom's shoulder as she comforted me and she wiped my 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 smiling picture of him in my room. But I can still picture him in my head and all the great times we had together.