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I remember when I was a little kid and I used to get a sip of Coke from my grandpa. This is how he became known as Pop. He didn’t let my parents see because they were strict about no caffeinated drinks for little kids. They were lame about it, honestly. He’d always give me the first sip of his Coke pop. Boy, did I feel special! I felt like a king. In that moment, every time, I was a king. I’d look up at his white whiskers, smiling like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. It was our little secret.

Pop was my everything, my hero and he just felt like home to me. He always smelled like saw dust because he loved to work in his workshop. I remember one time, for my tenth birthday, he made me a walking stick that was just the right size for me and the top of the walking stick had an eagle on it. He knew eagles were my favorite bird. Eagles just seemed so determined and strong for a bird, ya know?

Another thing he made me when I started high school was a wooden cross. I remember him telling me, “No matter what happens, don’t forget, the cross is empty for a reason.”

As I started my Junior year of high school, Pop started getting weaker. He still worked in his workshop but not quite as much. He was always the one I wanted to talk to. He never ever judged me or made me feel less than. No one listened as intently as he did.

One day, I came home from school, and was planning on going over to see Pop after dinner. My parents were standing somberly by the door. Mom had been crying and then dad said, “We’ve got some bad news. Pop passed away, son.”

My heart and world sank. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran to the workshop in disbelief and shock. Pop wasn’t there. I sobbed and sobbed. Who was going to listen to me like he did? I wanted him to see me graduate from high school. He was the only one I cared about making proud. Pop was gone…

On his work table, there was a half finished box, the size of a chapter book. The lid of the box had my name etched on it. More tears fell down, hitting piles of sawdust on the floor. I held the wooden box and my fingers felt the edges of my name. I had no idea what I was going to do now. Pop was supposed to live forever.