I always wondered what happened to Bella's grandparents – I mean, we hear all about her parents, but nothing about her grandparents. I know my grandparents played a big part in my life and wonder why Stephenie Meyers didn't put them in Bella's story. This is the last time Bella saw her grandfather. Written in vignette form, so only 669 words – long for a vignette. Enjoy!
Paper Wagons
I clutched the paper wagon in my hands, looking down at the floor, too scared to look straight ahead. The walk to his room felt like the Green Mile, never ending, with pain at the end. My grandfather had been sent to the hospital the week before, and this was the first time I had been allowed to see him. The hot August sun shone through the windows, flooding the hall with light. My mom's hand wrapped tightly around mine, squeezing it for comfort. Even though I was only nine and couldn't grasp the possibility of death yet, I felt like someone was clutching my heart, squeezing it almost to the point of bursting.
We arrived at the door, the wood contrasting with the desolate white surrounding us. It was like a hole, leading us into the unknown. And my mom opened the door, turning the handle gently as if she was scared about what was behind it. The door swung open, revealing my grandfather. He was lying on a uniformly made hospital bed, hooked up to some unknown machinery. I could tell his battle with lung cancer was taking a toll on him. His thin frame seemed too small for the large hospital bed and his face looked worn, as if he had lost 5 years of his life in the past week. I clutched the wagon tighter, as if it was my only lifeline. My mom let go of my hand, pushing me toward my grandfather. "Talk to him" she said simply, turning around and closing the door behind her. And so I shuffled forward, my eyes looking down at my pink shirt – anywhere but the bed. I didn't want to believe he could be sick. The wonderful man that had been such a big part of my life was on the bed in front of me, too weak to stand on his own. I pulled up a chair, the sound it made when it scraped across the floor was as loud as nails on a blackboard. His blue eyes focused on me. He moved his hand a little, as if to take mine, but he couldn't reach. I swiftly slid my hand in his, stroking his hand as if that would somehow make him better. His toughened skin felt like leather and home. And then I remembered the present I brought him. I bent down, picking up the gift that was on the ground next to me. He kept his eyes on my face, only moving them once he could see the bright red wagon made out of construction paper and tape that I had worked so hard on. The stark red stood out against the white walls. It even had a handle with black paper. I put it on his stomach. "It's for you Grandpop" I said, still stroking his hand. Using his unoccupied hand, he picked the wagon up, his mouth upturned slightly in a smile. I smiled widely knowing he appreciated my gift. "Thank you sweetie." "I made is especially for you," I pronounced proudly. He smiled again, squeezing my hand. And we said nothing for the rest of the time, not needing any words to express our contentment at just being with each other.
My mom finally came back in the door. "It's time to go now Bella." I didn't want to leave - I wanted to stay forever. I squeezed Grandpop's hand, getting up and kissing him softly on the forehead. I suddenly turned back and hugged him. "I'll bring you another wagon the next time I see you," I whispered to him. He nodded, watching me leave.
That was the last time I saw my grandfather alive. I was never able to give him the wagon I had made when I arrived home from the hospital that day. When my mom was cleaning her parent's house the next year, she found the red wagon, still brightly colored. He had kept it by his hospital bed the whole time.
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