I would like to share some things with all of you.

My grandmother's name is Anna, and at ninety-five years old, she slipped away from us. The last few months have not been easy. She was in constant pain, and the medications only worsened her dementia. When the pain peaked, we had to put her into a hospice, something she didn't understand. She tried to come home, and at the end of her days, she slipped away from us in a drug induced sleep, with my brother at her side.

But that isn't how I'm going to remember her.

I had the privelage to have her live with me her last few years of life. And before that, she babysat me every day. She was my mother as much as my grandmother. She watched over me. She taught me the names of the flowers, how to plant them, what berries to eat for a stomach ache, how to make pickles from scratch. Every time I went out she'd saddle up beside me and slip me five dollars. Every time I came home she'd have a light on for me. She knit blankets, sweaters, everything you could imagine. She smelled like the sweetest perfumes. She was a proud woman, there were no hugs or kisses, but the love was pure and genuine. Anyone who came into our house was family. She shopped not for herself, but my friends, even if she had only met them once. She learned what they liked and she gave. Constantly gave. She left behind charities. Childrens hospitals, veterans, homeless, she gave to all of them. I wil continue to do so in her foot steps.

My grandmother left us. She left the world. But I'm going to share what I learned from her. I'm going to grow and love just as she did. And I know, I know, her death will not be the end of her story.