Losing my grandpa just days before prom made me question whether I should go at all. Looking back now, I’m grateful I found the courage to walk through those doors, because what happened there changed more than one life forever.
Grandpa Bill brewed a full pot at 4:45 a.m., poured himself a thermos, and left a folded $5 bill on the kitchen counter for my lunch. He never woke me to say goodbye, but the smell of that coffee was its own kind of hug.
I was 18, and he’d been raising me since I was six, ever since my parents stopped being part of the picture.
Our apartment was small, with two bedrooms above a laundromat, but it was ours.
He’d been raising me since I was six.
Grandpa worked at an auto shop during the day and stocked shelves at a hardware store two evenings a week to make sure I had everything I needed.
Never once did he complain.
