The truth was that the person holding us together had always been my grandmother.
She never missed a birthday, and she remembered every anniversary.
If someone was sick, she cooked meals.
If someone lost a job, she quietly slipped money into an envelope without embarrassing them.
If someone needed a babysitter, she rearranged her own plans without complaint.
She spent her entire life showing up for everyone.
Then she got cancer, and everything changed.
The diagnosis shook us all.
I still remembered sitting around Grandma’s dining room table when she shared the news.
My father, Dennis, stared at the floor.
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