July 22, 2019

Two days into a lake vacation, the phone call changed my life.

My aunt, was calling from the hospital… my great grandma, Jogranny, was in the hospital.

The next day we found out why. Lung cancer.

I cried all that night, trying to be quiet because my best friend was laying right next to me. I held my mouth so she wouldn’t hear me sobbing.

We cut the lake trip short and traveled to Jogranny’s  and grandma’s house.

The house looked like it always did not like the people in It were hurting.

Grandma has lived with Jogranny from the time she was a child. Now it was her turn to take care of her mom, and she made sure we knew it.

We went home and went on with our life until about a week later.

Jogranny ended up in the hospital again.

At the hospital I bought some sour skittles. One of those big bags. It took me 2 days to finish it. I ate them until they made my taste buds numb.

I sat under a table watching people come in and out of the room Jogranny was in. The scariest person I saw was the kind of person you only really see at funerals. A priest in all black holding a clipboard. Those days I cried every night praying it wouldn’t get worse.

My prayers went unanswered

My first two months of high school I spent weekends at Jogranny’s and grandma’s house acting like everything was fine,

One time I went down there my Jogranny was losing her hearing. I had never yelled in that house but now I did so she could hear me. The tv volume just got higher and higher each time I saw her. Crime shows or the news. Didn’t matter. The TV screamed. I screamed. Jogranny tried to talk, but I couldn’t understand her.

Time passed and Jogranny lost her hair because of the chemo. I couldn’t look at her because every time I did, I just thought of bad things.

In mid-September when my mom moved down there to help out. My mom would try to come 45 minutes back home whenever she could, but it rarely happened.

I hated not being down there with my mom. Being home tore me apart.

I got up each day for school to show my mom I could be ok with her taking care of my Jogranny.

In October they put a hospital bed in the living room. This living room could barely fit four people in it.

October was one of the better months, I didn’t cry  as much, and it felt good. On October 27, the doctors said my Jogranny wasn’t going to live past the next 2 weeks. I hoped she would, though.

The last day I saw Jogranny alive haunts me. I went to her house sitting in the kitchen not able to look at her. I couldn’t even talk to her knowing she probably wouldn’t make it past the weekend.

The TV screamed. I could barely think.

I tried to act like I did every other time I went down there. I just couldn’t though. It wasn’t the same this time. Before I knew it, I was leaving.

I couldn’t say goodbye but my stepdad made me. I am glad he did; I looked back and walked toward her. Her tiny body on that huge hospital bed, I leaned down and hugged her goodbye. I told her I loved her and then I left.

November 3, 2019, Jogranny died.

11 days later I come home from school. That day is all a blur now. I put my backpack down in my room, and my mom told me to sit down because something was wrong. I refused because I was in a good mood.

My mom told me my grandma passed away too. The doctor said she died of a heart attack, but we think it was a broken heart.

My Jogranny and grandma were my best friends since birth. Now they were both gone.

I still miss them even though it’s been over a year. Sometimes I just want to call them and tell them everything about my week, but I can’t which is ok.

Losing them showed me to love and forgive and not be as angry. They taught me how do be someone I never thought I could be, but I know they would be proud of me.