Cancer. Cancer took over her body. One minute my grandma was healthy and making me pimento cheese crackers and the next minute she was at Baptist Health Hospital, lying in a bed, not being able to respond. I’ve dreaded walking into that hospital that day, not because I hate hospitals, but because I didn’t want to face the fact that my Grammy, the person who helped me through everything, was lying there in pain.

              “Madeline, we are going to see Grammy after your basketball game,” my dad told me. I thought she was okay as I went into that basketball game. One hour later, we were in the car to drive up to the hospital. I saw the sadness on my older brother’s face. He looked worried. His face was red, and he wasn’t responding to any of the funny jokes my sister was cracking. Why is he acting so strange? Did something happen?  I didn’t pay attention to his emotions because I didn’t want to face the fact that my grandpa would lose the love of his life, my mom would lose her mom, and I would lose my grandma in a quick second.

              Is she going to live? Will she be able to talk to me? Does my grandpa know? All of these thoughts went through my head, and a million more.  My head spun, and all I wanted was those questions to be answered.

              Walking into the hospital, seeing people around me crying, talking, and even laughing made me wonder what I was going to see and feel when I got to my grandma’s room. When I entered the crowded elevator with my family I felt a sign of fear. I walked to room 392 and went through the wooden doors to see my grandma, lying there with IV’s in her arm and nonresponsive. I saw my mom’s clothes scattered throughout the room from where she has slept there for the past four days. I was shocked. But not only shocked, I was scared.

              “Madeline, tell her how much you love her,” my mom told me while I was staring with huge eyes at my grandma.  My grandma was pale and had her eyes shut. Why did I have to see her like this? I thought to myself.  “Grammy, I love you. If I have ever disappointed you, well, I am very sorry. I love you and will miss you so much,” I said while a huge tear ran down my shaking face.  There was my brother on the cold floor, red, with tears running down. My younger sister didn’t fully understand what was happening in the moment, but I did. I knew that it was the last time that I would hold my Grammy’s hand.

              My grandma died that evening around 8:00. The night my mom came home and told us she passed was one of the saddest days of our lives. But as I look back to that day, I realize that I’m happy that I got to spend 13 years with her, that I got to have moments like pimento cheese and cracker days or watching Family Feud with her and my Grandpa. I am thankful that I got that time. Even though this was the worst day of my life, I had to fill it with positivity because I had to be there for my mom.

My Grandma died at 76 to abdominal cancer. Cancer. Cancer took over her body. Cancer did what it does. And this time it took my Grammy.