My grandma is the one who taught me, by example, to be independent--to learn how to take care of myself because there's never any guarantee that someone will be around to help. Even though she turned 87 last month she still rocks hard, working three mornings a week, crocheting a million doilies, and volunteering at the senior center, helping out people who are often younger than she is. She's had two different kinds of cancer three times now and is more active than my grandad, who's 17 years younger than she is.
She lost both her sister and her only son last year, and since then has been growing increasingly fragile. I wish there was a way to keep her under glass so that future generations will have a chance to meet her. I'm terrified of losing her, of having to live in a world where she is not.
So you can understand my difficulty breathing on learning a few minutes ago that she's been taken to the hospital. I'm scared.
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