I was about ten-years-old when my Mom-mom had her mastectomy.  I didn’t understand why she needed to have surgery, but I was familiar with the whole hospital routine since my Pop-pop had his Open Heart Surgery when I was eight.  I visited my Mom-mom at the hospital once she came out of surgery.  She was still groggy, but happy to see me.

My Pop-pop didn’t want to stay at his house by himself that night, so I slept over while Mom-mom was in the hospital.  I had my own bedroom at their house since I stayed there a lot.  Mom-mom and Pop-pop practically raised me once my parents got divorced and my mom was working two (sometimes three) jobs.  I was going to sleep in my own bed that night, but Pop-pop asked me if I would sleep on the pull out futon in his room because he missed my Mom-mom.  Of course I would.

My Pop-pop passed away when I was 17.  He really was more like a father to me since my own dad left when I was nine.  I hope my Pop-pop is proud of the decision I’m making that took the life of his daughter and affected my mom and Mom-mom.  I know he’s my angel and will take care of me, just like I took care of him when my Mom-mom was in the hospital.