Christmas is finally over, and that's a good thing for me. I don't think I could stand eating any more tamales for quite some time. I got to spend some time with my cousins, though: some time out of the house, as well as the biggest laughathon I've ever had, courtesy of George Lopez.

That's not really important though. The other night, I started thinking about my late grandfather. I can't remember what he died from, but thinking about him made me feel a bit sad. As a kid, I used to think that I was talking to his spirit, but I'm not sure if I was imagining it or if it was true.

When I tried not to focus on him, my mind wandered to a friend. Well, she's not a good friend, but we got along pretty well during a summer program. I overheard her telling someone about her uncle, who suffered from major depression.

I remember telling myself to not eavesdrop, but so much about him sounded so familiar. He acted a lot like I do. The two of them were very close, and she loved him so much. He was more than willing to help other people, even if he got hurt.

But while he would do anything for others, he couldn't make himself do things for himself. He gave up on himself really easily. It hurt her so much, she made him promise to stay alive for her sake. He fought his condition for so long, he eventually gave in.

That was when I would have given in as well. I wish I had respected her privacy, but it's still on my mind. But I think that I've grown stronger from hearing that. I don't think I'll ever meet her again, but I'm still thankful that we met. Her uncle and my grandfather may not be physically in this world anymore, but I still respect them, and hope there's an afterlife for the two of them.