So, back in late May 2017 on a Tuesday, my Grandpa died at the age of 80 just 4 days before my Grandma's birthday. Well, he didn't just die, he was brutally murdered by his 84 year-old next door neighbor. The guy came to my grandparents' front yard and struck my Grandpa twice in the head with a cane to knock him down. As my Grandpa struggled to stand up, his neighbor shot him 3 times in the chest and abdomen, killing him on-site.
When my mom first told me the news I was really shocked. Everything was just so unexpected. When I answered the phone, my mama was crying hysterically and I thought to myself, "it must be my grandma (because she's been suffering from dementia)." So I braced myself, preparing to hear what would be the worst news of my life. But then she yelled, "my dad's dead!" Still trying to make logical sense of the situation in my mind, I thought, "oh, he must've died naturally because he'd been the primary caregiver to my grandma and they say that when you take care of someone with that disease, your health usually deteriorates too." The words my mama said next are what really threw me for a loop, "it was the neighbor, he shot him." I let out a forceful cry and couldn't believe my ears..."WHAT?"
Shortly after getting off the phone I grabbed a few random clothes and my toothbrush and we hit the road heading for Killeen, TX to be with our family. When we got there later that night, everyone was still crying off and on while trying to stay strong for my grandma. Everyone was in disbelief (we still are) that the neighbor would go THAT far even though he had a history of harassing my grandparents for the past 8 years since they moved into their house. This whole thing has been like a real life version of Lakeview Terrace, except for the bad guy doesn't die, the good guy does.
Grief is weird.
Fortunately, this was the first time in my 24 years of life that a tragedy hit so close to home. You never know how you're going to react until it happens to you, hopefully it never does but life is full of plot twists. A few days had gone by where I barely cried at all. Then one day, out of nowhere I laid down for a nap and just lost it. I was yelling, screaming and bawling my eyes out. "Why did he have to kill my grandpa?! Why couldn't he just kill himself! Why, God? Why?" You never think you're going to be the one to question God or prescribe a murderer with suicide as the answer until you do.
After my episode, I tried my best to figure out how to move on from the situation. I've told myself that my Grandpa is in a much better place and he lived a full life but I'm selfish and it's still hard knowing that he isn't here with us anymore. I think about him everyday now. The smallest things remind me of him and sometimes I get soooo down. I might not talk at all or I might lash out on someone for no reason. Whenever a loved one dies it's automatically going to be a hard thing to deal with but when they are murdered, you have to endure trial updates for years after the funeral. Some people never get that feeling of closure. I've realized that you don't really "move on" from something like that, you just learn how to live with it. Until next time Grandpa. <3
