My grandfather did many things for me. He was always with me. He used to carry me around on his shoulders. He would send me and my grandma on vacations. He took us out to eat.
My granddad and grandma raised me.
My parents had barely any involvement at all.
I was encouraged to work hard in school and get good grades. He wanted me to finish college.
But when my grandma died, I dropped out of college and got a job to help him pay bills.
He tried to help cook (burnt the food, but we ate it anyways.) I told him that he’d made a mistake, but I wasn’t going to just throw his food away. It was soo gross though… but he was touched.
Ugh, but it was gross. He tried to reheat mac & cheese with water and, well…
He provided me with a car and house. The car was already planned. The house though? That came out of left field.
I did not take care of him near the end of his life for that. He just… gave it to me. And when he was in diapers and bedridden from cancer, he wanted me to put him in a nursing home so I wouldn’t have to deal with him. I refused. I explained that he changed my diapers, so I would change his.
He gave me this look, and I then stated that yes, the area was a LOT smaller, but the intent was the same.
Also, my grandfather couldn’t speak well at all. Had he gone to a nursing home, he would have been tortured.
And, let’s be real… Had that happened, I would have rented a room nearby to be with him every day. So it made sense for him to stay here.
~J. Lyst
Hey, Miss J! 
Your Thoughts?