"You're finally awake," he said to me as I walked into his room with a cup of tea in one hand and my computer in another. "Yeah, I'm going to do some writing," I said loud enough so he could hear me through my mask.

My grandfather, also known as Poppy, is suffering from Cancer. Stage 4 Cancer, in which chemotherapy would hurt him more than it would help. But he's a trooper and takes it one day at a time. He was diagnosed months after a series of hospitalizations, pain, and injuries.

While he was dealing with all of this at home, I was four hours away. Finishing my junior year of college while trying to stay in the loop of what's going on with his health, took a toll on both my emotional and mental health. Most days I felt lost and none of my friends really knew how to help or what I was going through. I would call my mom and my grandparents daily just to check-in. I just wanted to be home. However, I knew that he wouldn't like that at all, so I stayed and busted my ass on assignments, just to make him proud.

I came home to finish the semester remotely in late November. I told my boss that I would work Friday through Monday, that way I can spend the majority of the week helping my grandfather with whatever his daily hospice aid couldn't do and finish my journalism assignments.

Sitting by his side for the majority of the day often leaves me wiping away tears with my clothed shoulder to avoid touching my face. It's become a routine now, but he doesn't see.

"What are you typing over there," he asked as my fingers sped across the keyboard. "Oh, nothing really. Just a personal column-type piece" I said looking up, continuing to type. His hand gestured, "oh whatever" and I just laughed.

My grandfather and I have always had a bond. Whether it was joining bowling tournaments together or just driving around in his car, it was always a good time. Now that I'm at his house three days a week, that bond has grown stronger. I climb into his bed, drink my morning tea while he drinks his coffee, and we will sit and watch the morning news together.

"You'll be a better journalist than those people on TV" he jokes. "Now, what are we feeling for breakfast?"

Helping him get breakfast, lunch, dinner, and anything in between is something that he relies on now. He can't do these things by himself anymore, even though he tries when I'm not there. Although it seems like a full-time job at some points, it's a full-time job that I'd gladly do any day of the week.

But honestly, put yourself in my shoes. You'll see real quick that it's not ideal or easy. Can you imagine trying to catch as many final moments with someone you love so deeply while living in fear that you could possibly worsen their condition? It's nerve-wracking.

"Just follow the guidelines as much as possible," he tells me. "Continue to do what you've been doing and stay safe."

Now, my winter break is almost over and I'll have to leave him again to go back to school. I won't have to worry if I'm an unwitting carrier of the Novel Coronavirus. I won't have to worry if I'm making him proud or not because I'll know. I'll know he loves me and I'll continue to make him proud no matter what and who knows, maybe I'll be as good of a journalist as the people on TV.