My hero, My Savior, My Angel
I kept asking myself, “why didn’t grandma get the surgery to fix her heart? She could’ve lived longer; why didn’t she say yes to the doctors? She could’ve been with us right now.” But no. she wouldn’t be here with us right now.
She stayed sick for two years. It got to the point where she shook so bad when she was sitting down, and she couldn’t eat a single thing. She was so sick that while everyone was telling her and begging her to get surgery to fix it, she was the only one that trusted her instincts; that trusted her body, and knew she was far too weak to make it out alive if she went through with the surgery.
By not going into surgery she was rid of the chance of passing sooner, and in return was granted a few more months with our family, and on this earth. They did not pass easy. She was in pain almost the entire time, she was fed medicine after medicine and had to put up with uncaring nurses, but we were together and that’s all that mattered. With the time her delay gave us, we were granted the healing process sooner. We were able to accept death, and the absence of her, physically, in our lives.
She gave us the time we needed to heal before we were ever broken. And for that she is my hero.
For saving us, before we ever needed a savior.