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My Grandpam My Grandma

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Saturday mornings was our time or more like my time to debrief. The trees hovered over us, along with the identical apartment buildings across the street. Children played games on the sidewalk without a care in the world. Music played out loud from a neighbor’s window, and an ambulance wailed in the distance. Men strolled around, and cigarette aroma filled the air. There, outside of her apartment complex, on the concrete steps we talked. Talking to my grandma was my safe place where I could speak freely. She would make things make it easier with her advice or sometimes just listen. Although she couldn’t relate to many of my issues, she never failed at giving the best advice.
When my grandma was diagnosed with cancer we knew our time left with her was limited. This was the first time I had to deal with cancer first hand. You always hear about it on the television, in the news, and from people but never imagine it would someone you are close to. Once we found out the news she was already at stage 4 of esophogeal cancer. She had been battling with it for months but kept it a secret so we wouldn’t worry about her. Grandma was the type of women that liked to do things on her own even if it took double the amount of time. Family is everything she would constantly remind us. Grandma did whatever it took to keep us all close and happy. She was a stubborn, independently lady who refused to ask for help which explains why she didn’t tell us sooner.
Instead of throwing a pitty-party

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