It was just a regular Monday, I woke up around 6:00 to the beeping of my alarm clock and got dressed. At 6:15, I went downstairs to eat breakfast. 6:30, I go back upstairs to get my backpack. Then I, calculated, I had ten minutes to get to my bus stop, which was more than enough time. I remember that everything was going according to plan, until my mother stopped me and, in a trembling voice, asked if I could come into our kitchen. My eyes were fighting to stay open, but I obeyed and positioned myself behind the counter, facing her. The clock on the microwave read 6:35, five minutes until the bus pulls up to the curb. I turned my attention back to my mom. I did not know what was going on. My mom walked over to my side. It was then that I spotted my mother’s puffy red eyes. They looked as if they could burst out buckets of tears at any second. She leaned over and embraced me with her arms. Noticing the anticipating tears starting to fall, I wrap my own arms around her as support. We stood there for a moment, my mom sobbing into my shoulder and me trying to comfort her. Why is she crying? What could be making my mom so miserable? It couldn’t be...Then, I remember, my brain instantly awoke and I gasped. My arms stiffened. My mouth slightly opened. I stood there frozen, looking deep into my mother’s eyes. At that point, I did not care about the time. I did not care about the backpack that had slipped from my hands. I did not need to hear it come from my mother, I knew. I could feel a piece of me break inside. My eyes started to water. All I could think about was my Grandma.

On that Monday, November 14th, 2016, my grandma, at age 63, had passed away in her sleep. My world was completely turned upside down. I was confused, mad and dismal at the same time. It was only 5 weeks before, that my grandma was diagnosed with a severe brain cancer. This was the cancer that eventually killed her. She had several tumors on her brain that were making it hard for her to walk, talk, and remember things. It was hard for me to watch as she was bumping into walls/doors and forgetting what she was doing a few minutes after she had done something. I was afraid that she would no longer remember what it was like to be the most loved and influential grandma. That all the moments I have spent with her and the memories we shared would be erased. Luckily, that was not the case. Her doctors had told her than she would barely make it to Christmas, even if she fought for it. In the final days that I spend with her, I did nothing, but talk with her and listen as she spoke of all the things she had loved about her life. It was difficult since she talked as if she were saying goodbye to me right then and there. On the other hand, I am grateful that I was able to tell my grandma how much she truly means to me and how thankful I am for everything she had done for me.

I have never loved anyone as much as I respected and loved my grandma. I was her Fleurie and she was my Oma, or Oma Kip. We were inseparable. Ever since I was little I had admired her. I will forever value her elegance, humor, and spirit. Due to her I am the person I am today. Since the day I was born, to the day she died, she had always brought the best out of me. Growing up, she lived right next door. I would go to her everyday after school and share everything with her. Most times I talked more with her than with my own mother. She was there for me and I was there for her. She taught me how kindness is key and to just have fun. Fortunately, our relationship only became stronger when I moved to America. Not even thousands of miles and an Atlantic Ocean could keep us apart. She still had a way of protecting me. When I was down, just hearing her voice on the phone or facetime helped me to gain back my strength. I am so lucky to have had such a positive person in my life. I could go on and on about all the valuable things I have learned from her. If there is one thing she had been telling me all my life is how I should always keep smiling and do what will truly make me happy in life.

Now that she is gone, I can not stop from thinking about her day in and out. From the moment I get up in the morning to the time I go to sleep at night. She is in my every thought. I miss her. I miss her a lot. I am heartbroken thinking of all the things she could have done in her life. All the moments she could have shared with us, but now is not able to. I am mad. Mad that such a kind hearted and intelligent woman was not granted a longer future. A woman that I look up to and glad to call my grandma. I hope that when I grow up, I will be able to become at least half the person she was. My grandma might not physically be here with me, but I know that she will always be here for me. I see her in everything. In every twinkling light that illuminates my Christmas tree. In every song that we loved and always sang along to. I see her in my mother’s blue eyes that my grandma had given her. In everything. I hope that right now she is looking down on me. Watching me live my life. I hope she is proud of me. That she is happy with the person I am becoming. Most of all, I hope that she is content. That she has done everything she has wanted to do. As I said, 63 years is not a long time, but she lived everyday like it were her last.