My Grandpa Raised Me Alone – After His Funeral, I Learned His Biggest Secret

Then Grandpa got sick, and the anger was replaced by a deep, sickening fear.

The man who had carried my whole world on his shoulders suddenly couldn’t walk up the stairs without gasping for air.

We couldn’t afford a nurse or caregiver (of course, we couldn’t, we couldn’t afford anything), so I took care of him alone.

“I’ll be okay, kiddo. It’s just a cold.

I’ll be up and kicking next week. You just focus on your final exams.”

Liar, I thought.

“It’s not a cold, Grandpa. You need to take it easy.

Please, let me help.”

I juggled my final semester of high school with helping him get to the bathroom, feeding him spoonfuls of soup, and making sure he took his mountain of medicine.

Every time I looked at his face, thinner and paler each morning, I felt the panic rise in my chest. What would become of us both?

One evening, I was helping him back into bed when he said something that disturbed me.

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