I rubbed my eyes, but my grandfather, Ronald Anderson’s, hand was no longer moving. I did not dare to take the ring off. I lightly grabbed Ronald’s finger. It was very cold, and it did not feel like he was alive. I stood up and yelled, “Stop fighting! Let’s take Grandpa to the hospital first!” They stopped fighting for a while. My aunt, Mary Anderson, rolled her eyes at me. “Dad was just discharged from the hospital. Why do you want to take him there again?” I said reluctantly, “What if he’s still alive?” My uncle, Ted Anderson, threw the death certificate at me. “Dad had a tumor in his brain. He wasn’t going to live long with that condition. Now that he’s finally dead, why are you spoiling the mood?” I picked up the death certificate and stared at it. It seemed real. Was I hallucinating earlier? Was Ronald really dead? My uncle’s wife, Patty Anderson, smacked her lips and said, “It’s great that he’s dead, but why didn’t he leave a will? If he had, do you think th
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