PEOPLE WATCHING. I watch a lot of people. Today, as I was sitting in 80 degree weather, I watched two suits walking down Wilshire Boulevard with Starbucks in hand. They were probably arguing about the importance of something important with one most likely arguing for the sake of being right.

As I made a left onto Wilshire Boulevard and eventually onto the 405 (going North), I hoped to myself I would not live a life full of trivialities. Yes, I watch Ambush Makeover and Friends. No, I don't watch independent films or read highly acclaimed novels. However, I have a sense of a bigger world, a sense of God, and a sense of my place in life. Hopefully my senses will me towards a life not so filled with 9-5s and cappuccinos.

MY GRANDFATHER. It's been two weeks since my grandfather has passed away and I still have not come to terms with it. I still think that when I get home, he'll be the second to ask me, "Did you bring your laundry back?" But his bedroom door is probably closed and in fifty or a hundred days (I can never remember which), his room will be empty.

I don't have a lot of memories of my grandfather. I remember him walking my sister and I home. I remember his electronics. I remember his last few days. I especially remember his last few days.

On July 22, 2003 at 5:30 AM, the telephone rang. I picked up and heard my aunt's voice talking to my mom who had also picked up the telephone. I hung up and got up from bed. From that moment on, everything seemed like a blur: getting dressed, rushing out the door, feeling the dark, morning air. When we arrived at the hospital, my grandfather's oxygen mask and all the tubes that were keeping him alive were gone. It looked like he was sleeping. I even thought I saw him breathing.

The ER doctor walked in and touched him here and there and turned to the family and said she was sorry. We waited there for four hours - waiting for the rest of the family, waiting for the mortuary. Eventually, I could not sit in the room with him any longer and found a couch in the hospital hallway. My grandfather's complexion was changing colors and he no longer was the grandfather I remembered him to be.

I didn't cry at Rose Hills. None of this was really happening. None of it is really happening. He's gone but my heart won't accept it. And usually, I can rationalize my feelings and make myself feel better but it's not working this time. I don't know how to find closure.