Life hasn't been the same for nearly a year now.
My grandmother was diagnosed with incurable cancer almost one year ago.
She underwent surgery to take a tumor out of her colon in 2006.
However, doctors discovered the cancer had spread to her liver, lymph nodes and lungs.
The prognosis wasn't good and, needless to say, my family feared the worst.
She underwent aggressive treatments of chemotherapy for at least five months, but the treatments wore her down.
She then had to basically re-learn how to walk as the chemo left her very weak.
Her doctors chose to not put her under such an aggressive form of chemo for the next rounds.
However, it was discovered just last week that the treatments were not working.
The cancer had spread.
In less than one week, my grandmother went from walking around on her own two feet to being bed-ridden.
I have made time to visit her as often as possible during the past year.
After she was diagnosed, not much had changed.
I would visit my grandparents and things appeared to be normal.
But we all knew the family would never be the same.
On Sunday, I took a dinner up to my grandfather, who has been taking care of her effortlessly for the past year. She did the same for him a few years ago when he went through his own cancer scare.
But, as I said earlier, things are much different now.
I was hoping to get an opportunity to talk with my grandmother.
She sleeps a lot now, practically all day.
But sometimes she's awake.
Sunday, however, really wasn't one of those days.
She hasn't been speaking well lately and it appeared to me that she didn't recognize me.
That was very strange.
All of my life, she has been a rock.
She's been a mentor for me.
She and my grandfather are the main reason I started playing musical instruments.
I can remember visiting my grandparents when I was younger. My grandmother would watch my sister and I while my parents worked. She let us watch our own television shows and even let us pick our own lunches.
But when 3 p.m. came around, it was Guiding Light time. There was no way she would miss that show.
Even when she worked, she would tape it and come home to watch it in the evening, right after the local news.
I now choose to remember those days. I want to remember when she was vibrant and full of life. When she always felt obligated to give me advice, even when I really didn't need it.
Those were wonderful days. Those are grand memories.
I will always remember them.