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Fly Me To The Moon

I have never encountered the emotion of loss, until last September. Sure I've seen

movies or heard of such tragedies. I have had friends, who had loved ones passed away. I

saw how hurt and alone they became. I never realized how mind altering a death can be.

Papaw's name was Ben Mccarley. Everyone that knew him called him Papaw though.

He was my great grandfather. Papaw was more than great. In August of 2008 my Papaw

fell, and in a way my world did as well.

I never knew a "father". I just had family. Papaw was the main element in our

crazy household. He was the dad I needed, the motivator that pushed me, and the hero I

looked up to. I grew up in a broken home. Mom was off doing her own thing while dad

as never around from the beginning. Papaw was my main man. I can close my eyes and

still smell the baby oil he use to put in his hair.

Papaw and I used to stay up and play "Goldfish" and listen to Frank Sinatra. I

often catch myself humming the sweet harmony to our favorite Sinatra classic, "Fly Me to

the Moon". Papaw taught me so much out of life. He taught me the most simpilest things

like how to make pancakes to more complicated things like how to say "no" when "no" is

in order. Papaw was all about your work. He alwasy said, " Your word is your bond."

Papaw taught me to be truthful with others and myself. To follow my heart and chase my

dreams. Another life lesson Papaw showed me was that life will go on. I value this one

the most, because I know no matter how hard and ugly life gets eventually it will get

better. He was always positive and forgiving and he was the perfect grandfather.

I knew deep down, I had lost him the moment the ambulance came screaming

down our neighborhood. I can't look at that street and remember my sweet memories like

learning how to ride a bike or playing hide and seek for hours. No, I remember losing my

Papaw. Papaw was...