The eleven-year-old girl slowly and quietly entered the Hospital room, forgetting that her parents had entered the room behind her. All she could do was stare and think about the person lying before her in the hospital bed. She didn’t want to believe her own eyes – not one bit.

“This isn’t right,” she thought. “We shouldn’t be here. We should be home eating cake and ice cream.”

She continued to quietly make her way around to the left side of the bed, though it was the right side of the bed to the occupant lying there. Once she had reached her destination she swallowed slightly, before finally managing to utter any words at all.

“Hi Gramma,” she said softly.

“Tell her who it is,” one of her parents told her.

“It’s Lenore,” she informed her grandmother; the grandmother that was lying on her side facing her, though not looking at her. The girl found it strange she had to tell her gramma who it was, as her gramma had always known who she was before.

The young girl stood there silently, now not having a clue as to what to say. She’d always known her grandmother was sick, but hadn’t realized just how bad it really was – probably because she was scared to know just how bad it really was. Thus, being the reason why she had stated she didn’t want to go in to see her grandmother. She was scared and hated seeing her hooked up at all the machines you’re only supposed to see on T.V.

“Happy Birthday, Gramma,” the girl whispered.

“C’mon. Let’s go back to the others so you, your sister, Alex, and Melissa can go home,” a parent spoke.

The girl nodded slightly, and looked back at her grandmother again before leaving. “I love you Gramma.”

With that, one of the adults in the room walked the child back to the waiting room, where her aunt, uncle, cousins, and sister were all waiting. Once there, the aunt offered to take the children home – and so, they left for home.

After arriving back at home, the girl took her younger sister and cousins down the hall to her room to play. Her sister was seven, and her cousins being four and one. They played for a while, giggling throughout the process of the carefree game they played.

Meanwhile, the aunt sat in the living room watching television while the four young girls played down the hall. After a bit, she happened to glance outside, and saw a white bird – perhaps a morning dove – fly away just as the phone rang. She answered and listened to the person on the other end of the line.

The eleven-year-old girl went silent a moment, upon hearing her aunt call them. She fought with her one-year-old cousin, and after managing to grad hold of her, carried her down the hallway. She was following behind her sister and cousin, who had beaten her to the living room of their handicapped bungalow. She took one look at her aunt’s tear-stained face, and froze a moment.

“Don’t tell me she’s dead,” she immediately thought. “Do not tell me she’s dead!”

“Girls, sit down,” her aunt told them. Once they were all seated, she spoke again. “Girls, Gramma died a few minutes ago.”

Automatically her seven-year-old sister began to sob, and her four-year-old cousin looked at the sobbing one confused.

The girl sat in shock, as she stared at her sister as well. She let her littlest cousin out of her grasp, then got up and walked down the hall – past her grandmother’s room – and into her own room. Once there, she closed the door and went to sit on the floor in front of her window, her back against the wall – the wall which she slid down. She sat there in disbelief, unable to take it all in at once. How could someone be there one moment, and gone the next? How?

Soon her aunt came into her room. “Would you like to go sit in Gramma’s room for a bit?”

The girl nodded, and followed her aunt down the hall to her grandmother’s room. Upon taking a seat on the bed, she broke down – her brave façade – the one she’d put on for the younger ones – now gone and dissolved in tears. The more she looked about the room, the more she cried. They were all supposed to be happy today – celebrating her grandmother’s seventy-third birthday, not crying because her grandmother had passed.

She thought back to all the times in the past year that her grandmother had gone into the hospital because of her diabetes, and other things she probably wasn’t aware of. She now felt bad, as those times her grandmother had been in the hospital, she’d only gone in long enough to say hello, then had disappeared back out into the hallway, with either a book or a couple of Hot Wheels cars. She had never stayed in the hospital room for long, as it scared her to see her grandmother hooked up to machines – scary looking ones at that. She had always said and believed that her grandmother would be around to see her great, great grandchildren, and not just her regular old grandchildren. She had honestly thought that her grandmother would live on forever.

Now – now that her grandmother had passed – now she had no grandparents left whatsoever. And nothing – nothing – had ever hurt so much before in her young life. Nothing.

Days went by, and after the funeral had been held, the child and her sister had returned to school. They had taken the week off because they’d had to go down to Oshawa for the funeral, as that’s where their grandmother had been buried. After returning home, the child would come home from school – and not thinking – called out as she always did.

“Hey Gram! Gu - …” She would trail off after having had said ‘Gram’, as she would suddenly realize that her grandmother was no longer there to hear all about her day. It was those moments, where she would glance at her grandmother’s chair, then disappear down the hallway to her room, so that she could cry in peace. Of course, she always made sure to say hello to everyone else first – so that they would know she was home and wouldn’t come looking for her.

She knew that no one wouldever understand her the way her grandmother had – even if her sister and grandmother had been best buddies. But she – she had been her grandmother’s ‘Pet Juliet’ – though she never understood how that had come about – she honestly didn’t care. She just knew her grandmother loved her, and that was good enough for her.

She was also mad and extremely hurt, that the one who understood her the most had been taken away from her all too soon. Much too soon for her liking. And even now – after all these years later – nine years to be exact – she would still sit and cry for her grandmother late at night. She still felt the loss greatly – though she refused to share it with anyone. She would only share what she felt was necessary – which wasn’t always all that much. Few still know, that she had written a song, for her beloved and dearly missed grandmother. And she knew no one would know about the song, unless she told them about it herself – or she met A.J. McLean, and he were to sing it to the world.

She knew, she would always be – scared of reality.