#10

#10 When I was fifteen a suffered the loss of my very best friend. My grandmother, Eleanor Dickerson, was diagnosed in November 1996 with cancer. The doctors said it was like pouring marbles out on a table. It was spreading too fast. I sat up late many of those nights just talking to her, memorizing her hands, listening to her breathe, and trying to memorize every single thing within those moments. She shared her heart with me. Some nights I just sat with my legs tucked under me...praying that God would let her chest rise & fall again. and again. and again. Tears just streamed.

On, January 5, 1997 she lost her battle with cancer. It was the first time my heart had ever felt like that. I couldn't breathe. Didn't want to breathe. It's been 13 years and still I can describe her hands to you, her face, and I can remember the way she smelled.