Personal Narrative: Moving To My Parent Home

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As I was growing up I assumed I would have the responsibility of a child until I moved out of my parents house. I figured when I moved out it would be because I was going to college. I never expected I would move out of my parents house at the age of 16 to move in with my grandmother after I promised my grandfather I would take care of her.
My whole world came crashing down when my mom woke me up at 5am on Monday March the 16th 2015. I knew my Pawpaw was going to die, I just did not expect it to happen so soon. He did not get to see me graduate or make something of myself. He never got the polkadot house I promised him when I was eight. He never got to teach me how to drive stick shift. I felt selfish for wishing he was still here despite the pain he was in. I kept thinking about how he should be here with me, but instead he had to die. I acted strong for my family knowing that my mom had to plan the funeral I did not want to see her more stressed than she already was. Knowing that I needed to be strong so that the pain would not have to be worse. I hid the fact that my heart was in
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I kept my promise, I was moved in within a week after he passed away. I feel that at this point I went from being a child to being an adult. I took the responsibility of taking care my grandmother. I got a job and was going to school plus taking care of her. When I moved in during March I only had a few more weeks of my Sophomore year left. I got a job during the summer and began working. During the summer it was easy to work and take care of my grandma. Once school started back I would go to school then leave at 2:40, go home to change and be at work by 4 and work till 10:30. It became very stressful, but my grandma would have dinner ready when I got home and I would eat, get ready, and leave. I thought it couldn’t get anymore stressful than
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