power of prayer

I remember the phone call like it was yesterday. I was getting ready for Halloween and I was in the hallway talking to my parents and my dad’s phone rang. My heart sank immediately. I knew what the phone call was; I knew what it was about. My pop-pop was dead. He recently had a heart attack and was on a breathing tube and couldn’t speak, and wasn’t completely unconscious. I visited him only once and I hated being there. I hated seeing him so silent and still. His body was cold and it just wasn’t my pop-pop. We were closer than life itself. I saw him pretty much every day and all day, everday during the summer. He would give me candy, watch TV with me and just loved me unconditional. I knew I was his favorite grandchild. My dad came to the hallway and told us that pop-pop had died. I immediately ran up to my dad and asked why. Through my sobbing and shaking I could barely hear him but he said it was his time to go. I ran to my room and my dad left to go to the hospital with my mom. In my room I just kept asking why. I didn’t believe my dad when he said it was his time to go. I didn’t think it was, I wasn’t done loving him. While asking why I remember whispering to god, please bring him back to me, he’s not ready to go. About a hour or two later of straight sobbing and pleading I felt a calmness come over me and it was like god told me and reassured me that my pop-pop was in a better place and that it was, indeed his time to go…