Holding tight to the memory

It all began on a dark night at the local hospital. I wasn’t there, but the rest of my family was. My grandmother laid in her hospital bed. As she is surrounded by loved ones she drew her last breath with a sigh. The family was heartbroken at the sudden loss of a loving mother and wife.
Only being three years old at the given time I didn’t understand what my mom meant by “Grandma has passed away.”. So I thought nothing of it and went about my business like I normally did. It wasn’t until weeks later when I get my first clue of what the phrase meant.
It was a somewhat nice day as my Dad, Mom, and I drove somewhere to meet up with family. Dressed in all black we drove down the roads of Utah. Finally, my curious mind thought of a question I wanted to ask.
“Mommy, where are we going?” I ask.
“We’re going to a church peanut.” My mom weakly smiles.
“But we’ve never really gone to church before.” I state
“This time it’s important my dear. We have to say goodbye to someone we loved.” My mom remarks.
“Oh.”
It was the last thing I said for the rest of the ride, not wishing to ask anymore questions.
After about another half an hour or so we arrive at the church where the gathering was being held for the family. As we enter the building I soon take note of the atmosphere around us. It was depressing to say the least. I also took note of where everyone was standing. They were all surrounding this box, that I later learned is a casket. As the first group around it mellowed out a bit my family and I approach it as well.
I peered into the casket and smile to see my grandma lying down and dressed beautifully. The first thought that came to mind was how peaceful she looked, as if the weight of the world was lifted off her shoulders and she could finally relax. Not wanting to disturb her in anyway I silently walk away from the casket. Since most of my other family is here I decide to go look for my cousins Lexus and Mercedes.
I see the two of them huddled close to each other sobbing their eyes out. I approach them.
“Why are you guys crying?” I ask with a curious tone to my voice.
“It’s because of Grandma.” Lexus whimpered, “It’s sad to see her go.”
“What do you mean? She’s just sleeping, she’ll wake up soon. Don’t worry!” I chirp.
As soon as those words escape my mouth the two girls burst into tears once again, crying even harder then before. I turn my back to the girls and walk over to where my mom was sitting on the row of benches. Everyone seems to settle down on the benches as people began to speak one by one.
An hour or so goes by of people talking when my mom decides it's time for me to go home. Not wanting to object I went with my mom I silently went with her.
“Mom, why are we leaving so soon?” I ask on the way home.
“You’ll understand when you’re older someday.” She replies with a shaky voice.
She was right. After that day I began to notice my grandma wasn’t around anymore and how the family spoke about her. It took me a couple years to understand that ‘passing away’ meant that she was not of this world anymore to put it lightly. This memory is important to me because it’s the last one I have of her asides from the many stories of her and the reason why I hold onto it so tightly in recent years. It will and forever be my favorite memory of when I was a child.