The evening of the day after I refused to visit my grandmother, when I heard my grandfather and uncle return from the hospital, I skipped down the stairs to greet them.
It was then that my world came crashing down around me and life as I knew it would change forever.
As my grandfather tearfully informed me, I would never see my grandmother again, because she had died.
Since the seriousness of her condition had been kept from me, I was totally unprepared for this news and absolutely incapable of handling it. I was, after all, just 10 years old.
The emotional pain was immediate and intense, and there were no words to express my grief/anger/fear. I simply screamed, then ran back upstairs to my room, slamming the door behind me. There, I threw myself on my bed and cried for what seemed like hours. My grandfather eventually came to talk with me, but I was inconsolable and, because of his own grief, he had little comfort to offer me.
It was the lowest moment of my life and I was sure that things could never get any worse.
Unfortunately, I was wrong.
