My grandfather became my whole world after I lost my parents in a house fire when I was only one year old. I do not remember that night, but everyone told me how my 67-year-old grandpa ran back into the burning house to save me. From then on, he raised me by himself. He packed my lunches, learned how to braid my hair from videos, and never missed a school play, game, or parent meeting. He was not just my grandfather—he was my entire family.
Whenever I was nervous about school dances, Grandpa would push the kitchen chairs aside, hold out his hand, and say, “Come on, kiddo. A lady should always know how to dance.” Then he would laugh and add, “When your prom comes, I’ll be the most handsome date there.” Three years ago, he suffered a major stroke and ended up in a wheelchair. Even then, he never stopped cheering me on through every important moment of my life.
