This is an answer on a post by A writer's voice, you should check out her blog, it's great!

Oh my God! Your post was so... I don't know... It left me speechless!

First of all, I'm sorry for your grandma, I know how it feels to lose someone so dearly loved.

Second, I have to congratulate you for what you did, because it was something I could never do.

You see, before my grandpa died, he spent almost a year in a very deplorable state, barely living. He was on bed, with a constant nurse by his side, imposibilited to breathe naturally, to eat, to moove, to see (he had a problem on his left eye), and, well, to live.

The first time I saw him in that state, I couldn't keep my tears from falling, though I knew I had to be strong, for his sake, for my mom's, for my grandma's... While I was there, holding his strong hand in mine, seeing his emaciated body, which used to be so strong, as healthy as a horse's... I had to bite my lip to stop the tears from falling, I knew crying in front of him was more than forbidden. But when I left that room and went to my grandparent's, which was occupied by my grandma alone those days, I burst into the most sorrowful and horrible tears. The worst thing is that I couldn't stop them anymore, I just cried and cried in front of my grandma, one of the people I needed to be strongest to. She couldn't help crying too, and there we stood, hugging each other, crying out hearts out. I think it was so hard for me because I was realising I was losing him, one of the dearest people in my life.

I guess that is why I wasn't shocked at all the day he passed away (last December 24th, at 2:30 on the evening, believe it or not), because he had already done so for me, the day he wasn't "alive", going from place to place, never sitting still, fixing this and that, swimming in the pool or going for a walk, always mooving. I had long ago realised he would die, and I had long ago said good bye to him, I guess, that day, when I first saw him in that state. Also, I was more happy than sad of his, er, departure, because I knew that all that suffering was over, that he and my family got to rest at last.

I tried to be strong on that ocassion, but I guess you were far much stronger than I was.

By the way, thank you very much for your prompt, it brought back recollections of one I love so tenderly, one I miss so much, and it made me think about that time, which I hadn't thought about for so long.

Another PPP Prompt: [ Write something with the phrase and the rain fell gently. ]

And the rain fell gently, washing away my astonishment. I had dumped other guys before, I had been dumped before, but Josh... How could this be actualy happening? I thought we had agreed to have a life full of each other, and now, what I've got, is this stupid rain, somehow, however, soothing. To think of him, of the time spent together, of the promises made, of the love shared... At least you weren't married, mom said. How could she be so insensible? I loved him! But Becky was right, somebody who said what he had said, and did what he had done isn't worthy of my love, neither he is of any other's love. But how could I convince myself of that? It is not easy to forget someone you are so deeply in love with all of a sudden, specially when they come with this out of the blue, when you least expect it. And now, all I've got, all I've got left, are these stupid tears, somehow soothing, mingling with the gentle tears of the sky.

Hey, new PPP promtp, as follows.

[ Write a story with this phrase:
Standing at the edge of the canal I was where I belonged... ]

...I could see that old building of mine, just like it had always been, a little dark but still wonderful. The square windows were just the same, they had always made me thought that there was somebody inside, expecting my arrival. This time, I knew aunt Sarah was in there, awaiting for the marvelous stories I had to tell her about the faraway land of Germany, of the secret island of Ireland. This time, I knew, aunt Sarah was going to tell me about all the good things that had happened during my trip, and all the not-so-good things that had happened, the ones I hadn't heard of in her letters.
But, one thing was sure, I was back home, the only place in the world I could call so, and was about to re-start my life there, as soon as I crossed that dear old threshold.

[I found a webpage that gives you 329 prompts to write creatively, here's the link to it: http://www.creativewritingprompts.com/. Here's my answer to one of the prompts.]

Write from the POV of the last tree standing on a forest.

I'm the only survivor of this never ending war. I had to see my brother fall. I had to see my father fall. I had to see my daughter fall. I had to see everyone around me fall. Everyone but myself.
I'm the only survivor of this never ending war. I had to see everyone around me fall, and I couldn't do anything to avoid that, anything to help them in their suffering.
I'm the only survivor of this never ending war. And I cannot do anything to end it, I cannot do anything to make them stop. And they won't stop.
The day before this all happened, that lovely girl who is fighting for us almost gave her life to protect us, for if her father hadn't come to drag her away, they would have run her over with their big, yellow monsters. With those monsters they killed my family, they killed everyone around me.
It is really unbearable to see everyone you love and care for die, and not be able to do anything to protect them.

And, I wonder, what have we done to diserve that? Have we killed them? Have we make them unhappy? Have we done any bad to them?
No, we have given them fresh air to breathe, we have contributed to improve our environment

To think their ancestors gave us birth, planted our very seeds and watered us, made us become what we now are. They looked after us with loving care, they told us they loved us. But they don't seem to think that anymore, for, instead of giving us life, they are taking it away from us.
So I wonder, what has changed? Why has that changed?
Why did the relationship between men and trees, which used to be great, turn to be what it is now/a war fought just from one side?
This is a war fought just from one side, the other side just tries to resist as long as they can, try to defend themselves...
Poor us.

Percy Penguin

A lame poem I wrote... I was just passing the time with Molly and I wrote this... LOL

Percy Penguin sat A
as quiet as a bat A
in the middle of the night B
when mom said 'Sleep tight'.B

He wondered were she was C
and that, is just because, D
for he was not the boss, C
he couldn't just turn and toss. D

With the uttermost fear E
he realised she wasn't near E
and, very sadly, he cried F
'mom, stay by my side'. F

[Answer on a PPP prompt about a door, and who's behind.]

'Ring' rang the bell. Somebody knocked on the door.
From my place on the sofa all I could see was a black shape through the glass, a dark figure.
I wondered who would be this early in the morning. Maybe dad, who had come to visit me. Or maybe John, who had forgotten his keys. I don't know.
Maybe it was someone who was going to bring more unhappiness to my life, who has going to make me more worried, more tired...
Maybe it was someone, on the other hand, who was going to bring me happiness, the one to make me smile at last, somebody to take all the stress away, to make my worries disappear...
I won't know, I told myself, until I open that door.
I toddled towards it, irresolutely, still wondering who that person would be. I reached out, for the door's handle, shaking a little. Maybe this person is going to make my life worse... Yes, definetely, I was then thinking about the bad 'mabies'.
I opened the door, looking at the floor, not daring to look up yet, worried about the stranger I was about to met, wondering if the stranger may bring more unhappiness, more worries...
And when, finally, I looked up and saw the stranger's face...

I discovered it brought peace.

"Why do you write?"

[This is a answer on a task ('Why do you write?') on a blog called 'A Writer's Voice']

I write because I've read lots of books and discovered writers leave a really nice feeling on me: I realized I understood the magic of their art, so I try to create some sort of that magic. I also think that, as every author has a personal style, they have a personal "magic".

My 'Jazzqueen' blog is about my school essays for my ESL class, I take them seriously because I wish to become a serious writer someday, or at least write as a hobby, because, as I said before, I want to be able to create that magic. I'm trying to develop and uncover MY magic, inspired by all the great writers around me, and I'm hoping to finish my lovely "masterpiece", which I'm currently writing.

Thanks for the task, it made me think and discover a lot! : )