In the years leading up to my birth, my grandmother was an alcoholic. Her downward spiral into drinking began when her asshole of a husband left her to be with another woman, and left with her nothing. She went from a beautiful house on the countryside to living in a trailer on the edge of town. She had been married to this man since college, for almost 30 years when he left her. She fell into depression and turned to liquor to ease the pain. My mother tells me she turned to self abuse and drug use as well. My mother and uncle (her only two kids) tried getting her help but she refused, firmly believing she had no purpose in life.

This continued for several years, until my mother gave birth to me. My grandmother always tells me that the moment she first held me and looked into my eyes, she saw her purpose. She witnessed the new life in me, and wanted to start over again herself.

She began attending alcohol and drug counseling, began to take better care of herself, and began a new full-time job at the university. As I grew older, she would take me on trips, come watch me play sports, or just come hang out. As I was growing up, she was always a sweet, thoughtful woman. At times she still gets sad, but never to the degree that she used to. As she gets older, I've began taking care of her as her body now fails her.

Don't ever underestimate how much a simple bond between two people can help a person. Going through life and tough times is painful and horrible, and can be made a little easier just by having a friend.