Wishes Come True

I stared out the window of my small third story apartment, watching the seagulls land on the beach. I was supposed to be packing. Instead, I stared outside, thinking about my life.

I had a rough life growing up. My mom died when I was 9 and I was thrown around to different foster homes. I was never lucky enough to get adopted. I watched eager couples talking to other kids all the time, most would end up leaving with a child. None of them would ever look my way. I was too old, everybody would say.

Two weeks ago, I was working at my fast-food job when a middle-aged man in a suit came in asking for an Isla Brandon, me. he told me that someone wanted to talk to me. He left and a couple minutes later an old man walked in and sat down on the seat opposite me that I was now sitting in. he told me that he was my grandfather. I didn’t believe him at first, until he began showing me pictures of my father as a child. Pictures I had never seen before.

He then told me that many years ago they had a falling out. My father and him got into a huge argument, then left. He never came back, and my grandfather never tried to reach out to him. Until 3 years ago. However, his son was gone by then, leaving behind a daughter.

He told me that he knows about my financial situation and wanted to help. I would come back with him and work for him if I wanted too. He would also give me 20,000 dollars, whether I came or not. He gave me his business card and told me I had two days to decide. He hoped that I would say yes, so that he could get to know me, for I was his only grandchild.

I grabbed a shirt off a hanger in my closet and threw it into the box.

I said yes, of course. A chance to get to know a family member-one that I had no idea existed- was too big of an opportunity to pass up.

For the first time in forever, I was actually happy. It was a weird feeling to have.

I couldn’t wait to get to know him.

I sat down in the single chair I used for when I ate and pulled out my phone to call my grandfather. It was a weird thing to think. I’d never called anyone grandpa before.

20 minutes later, a black limo pulled up outside my building. The driver walked out and opened the door for me. Inside sat my grandfather. He was smiling, a big smile that I’d always pictured how a grandfather would look.

When I was young, I had wished that I had a grandfather, that one day he would just show up out of the blue and take me away.

My wish finally came true.

I smiled back at him. A real and true smile. One I didn’t fake.

“I’m glad you chose to come. You will love it at home.” He smiled as I sat down in the seat next to him.

I really hoped that I would love it there.

Neither of us spoke a word to each other the whole journey to get to where he lived, which was long. I was so nervous, and I barely talked to anyone anyways. After many years of dreaming this and wondering what I would say, all the words eluded me. I was completely speechless.

We were driving in another limousine, except this one was white. We pulled up to a giant gate, where the driver typed something on a keypad that I assumed was the password for the gate. The gate opened and we drove for ten minutes before we came upon a huge mansion. The place looked old, but very well kept. It was a beautiful place. The grass was very green and well kept. Beautiful flower gardens were scattered all over the grounds in intricate placements. The place looked perfect. I just couldn’t believe I was here right now.

“This is your new home.” My grandfather said as we got out of the limousine.

Home. What a foreign word that was for me.

I walked to the back of the car, where my boxes were and began picking them up to bring inside.

“Oh, the staff will bring your stuff in for you.” My grandfather smiled.

I stood there, frozen. I was more than capable of doing it myself. I didn’t like making other people do what I could do myself.

“It’s their job.” He chuckled. I reluctantly put the boxes back on the ground. This was going to take a lot of getting used to. Once I put the boxes down, he gestured me to follow him.

“This building has been in our family for generations. Our ancestor, founded and built this city from the ground.” My grandfather explained as we walked around the mansion. “And here is your room.” He informed me when we were finished with the tour. “This was your fathers’ room when he lived here.”

My father’s room. I’d never gotten to know him for he died when I was two.

I walked into the giant room that was way bigger than my apartment. There was a kitchen and a dining table in the first room. This room had a flat screen television on one side that was enormous. Three grey couches surrounded the television. On the right side was a door that went to the bathroom. The door on the left was where my bedroom was with a walk-in closet that was way bigger than my apartment.

The next couple weeks flew by. What I didn’t know at the beginning was that my grandfather had wanted me to take over the business from him. Every day he taught me the ins and the outs of the business.

Months went by and I had gotten to know my grandpa well. I found out that my grandmother had died 30 years ago, which was the reason my father had left. My grandfather had gone into a depression after she died and shut himself off from everyone. Something he regrets to this day.

Everyday him and I would walk around the yard and talk about ourselves. He wanted to know everything about me and I the same. He told me about my father growing up and about my grandmother, something he had a hard time talking about. He loved her so much.

I still had the 20,000 dollars that he gave me. The money was my grandmother’s idea, she saved it up in case they had a grandchild. She intended to save more. However, she died before she could.

One day I had decided what I would do with the money. Growing up in foster care wasn’t the best. We never had much growing up and were neglected all the time. I had tons of resentment for years after leaving. Getting to know my grandfather taught me to forgive and see things in a different light. I no longer had resentment for the place I had grown up. I knew they didn’t have much money and that was the reason for all the bad things. So, I decided to give it to a charity that helped foster children. I wanted the kids to have a better experience. One that I never got to have.

After a year, my routine was set. I had gotten used to being here and I was now working full time as the assistant boss next to my grandfather. It was the happiest I had ever been. I was so happy to have my grandfather here with me, I could never ask for a better grandfather. He was so supportive of everything I did and gave me everything I could ever wish for.

Days went by and my grandfather began acting differently all of a sudden. He wasn’t getting up as early as he used to, and he wasn’t his usual upbeat self anymore. weeks went by and he finally agreed to see a doctor.

I should have forced him to go sooner. It was the worst news I could ever think of getting. Maybe if I had him go in sooner, he would be okay.

He had stage four leukemia. He only had a couple months left to live. It was really the worst thing ever. I had just gotten my grandfather back and now I was going to lose him.

I screamed at the universe, screamed so loud to the sky. I ran after I found out the news. I couldn’t cry in front of him. I couldn’t cry in front of anyone. I walked back to the mansion after I finally got myself to stop crying. I knew I needed to be there for him through this.

I spent the remaining of the time I had with him. We literally did everything, anything we could do. We traveled all around the different islands of Hawaii together, until he couldn’t do it anymore. His last few days were spent in his bed, I sat with him 24/7. I didn’t want to leave him. I slept on the couch in his room and ate all my meals in there too.

Then it was his time to go.

He left this world peacefully.

I went out to the gardens immediately after he died. It was the place he loved the most. It was where my grandmother spent all her time also.

The tears came rushing out of me before I could stop them. It was not fair. He was taken from this world too early. Way too early. I fell on to my knees and balled. I could not stop myself. I wanted him back.

I curled up into a ball on my side and kept crying. Eventually I fell asleep and when I woke up, I was in my bed.

In time I was able to go about my days without crying. When that happened, I knew it was time for me to go through his things. I was finally ready.

I walked into his room, for the first time since he died. I went through all his things, packing them away in boxes. The last spot I went through was his nightstand that sat by his bed. I knew what was in this, but I could not look at it yet.

I opened it, the only thing that was in it was a Little Black Book. My grandmothers Little Black Book. These were here memories of when she first met him. The memories of their early life together.

Everything I wanted to read but was told to wait until the right time.

This was the right time.

I grabbed the book, sat down on the couch and began reading.