A few weeks pass and I wasn't aware that the worst was yet come. We received the news that my paternal grandmother, was dying. I remember my father crying while laying sitting on the edge of his bed. I tried comforting him but I was told to "fuck off" and was charged at. I can't recall what happened after that but I know that I wasn't the same again, just more fearful.

On January 31st, my mom and I were sitting in the living room. I was on the floor, by the space heater because it was a cold snowy day, a total blizzard outside. The phone rang, my mom picked up. I remember her face, turning bright red and tears dripping down her face. My grandma was dead. I didn't say anything, for some reason I ran into the garage and knelt down by the cooler to think about her. I didn't want my parents to see my because I knew if they did, they would take it out on me.

I knew that I wasn't responsible for my grandma's passing and I didn't want to be. All I could think about is speaking to her that summer and how she said she'd see me next year, she never did.
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