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I started with my granddaughter, Susan. She’s 30 now, a single mom working three jobs. The girl barely sleeps.
But here’s the thing about Susan — she always cared.
She’d still bring the kids by to see me. Not often enough, sure, but more than the others.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
She opened the door looking like she’d been hit by a truck.
“Gran? What brings you here so early?” she asked.
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