I just got the news my Grandma passed away. Towards the end of the year, I was told she was on a machine to help her breathe. She had been suffering from dementia and muscular dystrophy for awhile now. Over the last few years, the woman who raised me for a large chunk of my childhood turned into a different person. My brother went through hell, trying to care for her. After awhile, there was nothing anyone could do to help her, because she wouldn't cooperate because her dementia made her believe she was alright when she wasn't. We basically were forced to leave her until the state finally did something, because her Medicaid wouldn't help because she wouldn't cooperate with any rehab she was brought to, and we couldn't afford to keep her there ourselves. The whole thing was just a mess.

It's like 2021's dying breath took my grandma with it. Now, my grandma and my dad are both gone, and I've never felt so alone. I'd always confide in them when I was feeling lost. Those two were the ones who raised me. They're gone now. They're gone and there's nothing I can do about it.

Rest in peace, Grandma, and thank you for taking me in when I was a child. Thank you, for not letting my insane mother get custody back in the day, because she would have turned me into a horrible, bigoted person. Thank you, for accepting me when I came out of the closet. Thank you, for everything.