It was 2013. You were sick. So so sick. I remember sitting and waiting, visiting hospital after hospital every time you were moved to a new location. I remember knowing what would happen, but never fully grasping the emotions that would find me in those final moments.

Let's rewind several years. I remember staying at your house with my brother and sister and cousins, you'd make us banana nut muffins and peanut butter cookies. You created the love for food in me that has stuck with me. We'd have ice-cream before bed and I'd build a fort of cushions on the couch to house my make-believe kitchen while you watched Jeopardy. We'd wake up early and pick all the pinecones up out of the yard, then eat pomegranates from the tree out back.

Fast forward a little bit, the holidays would come. The whole family would gather at your home from near and far to be together at least once. You'd cook a meal no one else could come close to. Papaw would pray over the meal, always thanking God for one more year, stating that he never knew if it would be his last. We'd all laugh it off, pretending we'd never see the day.

The years went by and the words stayed the same. We were all growing up. There weren't as many sleepovers and holiday dinners became smaller, everyone had so much to do with building their own lives. The words remained, "This could be my last Christmas." And it never really hit until you got sick, both of you.

Cancer. The word still stings my tongue when spoken. Why? Why were you chosen to go through this pain? You had never done anything wrong, you didn't deserve the suffering you experienced.

For months, you remained at home, trying your best to achieve some normalcy. Trying your best to stop all of us from worrying about you. You even kept your diagnosis a secret to try to allow us the bliss of ignorance. But you couldn't hide it forever, you were getting worse. You couldn't take care of Papaw the way he needed, you guys couldn't remain at home any longer. It started out at a nursing home, then you'd be moved to hospitals, and the last step was hospice.

I was watching both of my grandparents diminish in front of my own eyes and knew I could do nothing to help. I would rub Grandmother's feet to help with her swelling, I would sit with Papaw while he slept and talk to him, although he couldn't respond. I did all I knew to do in that situation. Part of me naively thought maybe I could help, maybe there was a way to reverse all of this. But it never happened. There were good days and there were bad days, but I was losing you, both of you.

It worked out to where you and papaw were always together, same nursing homes, hospice facility, rooms right next to each other. I remember watching them roll his bed to your room so you could spend the evenings together. It felt like I only had days by your side, the months flew by too fast, I didn't get to soak it all in the way I wish I could've, but I guess death is like that, it doesn't come on your own terms. The both of you got to the point where you no longer spoke, I wish I'd known when it happened, that it was the last time I'd see you smile.

I watched you go. In the most raw sense of the phrase. I watched you breathe your last breath. It was Mother's Day. I wanted to stop and get you flowers, but something in my heart told me to just hurry there. I walked into your room and no one else was there, this was rare at this point. I sat with you, kissed your head and told you I loved you. And you were gone. My cousin tried to save me from the traumatic experience, but it had all been seen, it was done and could not be reversed. You were gone right in front of my eyes.

And as we buried you that following Friday, Papaw just had to join you. And in a week's time, I lost two of the greatest people in my life.

I never really healed the way I wanted to. I never forgot the feeling. Whenever an important time in my life comes, I always think back to your memory. I'll never get to introduce my children to you, you'll never see me get married, you didn't get to see me graduate, you won't get to see me start a career. Some of my most important memories will be missing the two of you and it hurts me to even think about. I have been angry, I didn't understand why you were taken from me, from everyone. I've never stopped missing you, the pain never went away. And now all I can do is look to my memories, think of the times when you were here, all the fun we had, all the love that was shared. A piece of you will always be with me, but I wish I could hug your necks just one more time, tell you I love you again. I watched you go, but I wasn't ready.