November 4, 2010. I am in the car going home from school, telling my mom I won two movie tickets for the best website design. Her cell phone goes off, interrupting our conversation. She answers it and shock illuminates her face.

“What!?” she yells.

The tears stream down my face before I know what happened. She pulls over and stops driving. I look to her for an explanation.

“Grandpa. He’s gone.”

A flashback enters my mind of a crowded hospital room from a few weeks before. My grandpa wasn’t doing well, but he was healthy enough to go home. And now he is gone. I think of my grandmother, an incredibly strong woman. How will she handle the loss of her husband of almost 60 years?

By this time, my mom resumes driving and we are now at my brothers’ school. My mom takes us to the library for privacy and shares the devastating news. Now I have to survive the long night with my family. But I know we will make it…eventually.

I went through this in March of the same year, when I lost my other grandfather. His death was easier to accept, as we knew it was coming.

Now, there is another funeral and I am better prepared this time. I know my family will be there to support each other. I know it is going to be hard. And I know that since I am the older sibling, I have to care for my younger brothers as. They aren’t ready to accept that Grandpa is gone, but we will get through it together.

Death was, and still is, hard to understand, but I wasn’t a child anymore, shielded by my parents. I was growing up and learning to accept death and life. I focused on my schoolwork and my friends helped me through my loss. I accepted my grandpas were gone, but I still miss them.

Summer finally comes—I have completed my freshman year. I participate in summer gym, and enjoy the warm weather. But in July, my life changes again.

We are eating dinner as a family when the phone rings and my mom gets up to answer it. She goes into the living room. When she comes back, there are tears in her eyes. My uncle was found unconscious in his shed. No one knows if he will make it.

I cry and pray he will live. And again, my thoughts go to my grandma. She lost her husband eight months ago. Will she have to lose her son too?

The news isn’t good. My uncle Jim passed away of a heart attack at the age of 50. And so I attended my third funeral within 16 months. I now truly was an adult.

I think of my grandma all the time. I know that she says her prayers, attends church, and sheds a tear every day for her husband, son, and the rest of her family.

I learned a lot through the experience of losing close relatives. These lessons include how important family and friends are, and how important it is handle difficult situations maturely. But most importantly, I learned that no matter what life throws at me, I can’t give up.