When I was 15, I spent nearly all my free time with my Grandma Rosalind. While others saw her as just a frail old woman, I saw warmth, wisdom, and quiet strength. My relatives, on the other hand, saw something entirely different money. Uncle Bill would mock me for being with her so often, but I didn’t care. One summer afternoon, Grandma made me promise I’d always stay true to who I was. I didn’t realize then how soon that promise would be tested.
Right before her 89th birthday, we were told that Grandma had suddenly lost her hearing. Everyone pretended to show concern, but at her birthday gathering, I overheard my aunts and uncles saying horrible things talking about what they’d do with her house and belongings, eagerly awaiting her death. I was crushed and tried to shield Grandma from the harsh truth. What I didn’t know was she already knew.
