Indie game storeFree gamesFun gamesHorror games
Game developmentAssetsComics
SalesBundles
Jobs
Tags
(3 edits) (+2)

This story is truly beautiful! I was legit crying, as I’ve lost both grandmothers (sadly never knew either of my grandfathers). My mum’s mother passed when I was 11. My other granny from my dad’s side, whom I shared an extremely close bond with since I was born (& was the only grandchild who ever truly made time for her) was a VERY bitter loss for me. All because the “wicked stepmother” figure who married my dad (a few years after my parents divorced) made it physically impossible for my disabled self to visit my poor granny as she was dying; by insisting on moving my granny into their home, which was so inaccessible that I couldn’t possibly enter with my disabilities. My mum (who I’ve always lived with) tried her best to fix it with my granny & she was going to help wheel my granny by wheelchair into our disabled vehicle & drive her a 15 minute drive to our place, which is as disabled friendly as any nursing home, even having a bar beside the toilet. My granny was actually looking forward to the visit, but her hopes were suddenly dashed when “the wicked b+tch of the west“ stopped my mum from taking my granny from their home, insisting that I (“as the granddaughter“, whatever the heck she meant by that) had to come & see her myself. My granny’s fighting spirit vanished at that moment & she died just a couple days later. That woman didn’t care about my granny at all; she used my dying granny as a pawn, all because she wanted to hurt me. My dad did nothing against her actions & he was more or less dead to me from that point on. Amazingly enough, my granny seemed to choose her death-date all the same, because it was exactly 1 week before my 25th birthday (& I think she knew it was the only way she could be with me on that day). She ended up somehow being there with me when I became ill with sepsis during Christmas that year; as I was in a coma, in a dark place & at one point I recall her telling me to go back, that my nieces & nephews still needed me. When I woke up, my mum was crying her eyes out & holding my hands tightly (to stop me pulling out the tracheotomy tube). The doctors said I had zero chances of surviving my ordeal, but somehow I did. They called it a Christmas miracle, though perhaps my granny helped a bit. Guess who didn’t bother to come say goodbye when news of me dying got out? You guessed it. My so-called “father” & Satan’s twisted sister (the former of whom had later tried to act like he didn’t just leave me to die at Christmas). My granny gave me enough strength to shove them out of my life for good, though. I haven’t looked back since & my life is so much better now. I still get the feeling as though my granny is with me, but it comforts me. I have asked her to forgive me for failing to say goodbye to her properly before she died, but I feel that she understands just how horribly we had both been betrayed by someone who should’ve supported us. I thought I’d share this, just to show that there is a connection between life & death that some but not others can see. Also, I wanted to give hope to others when it seems like there is none. Sorry for making this such a long & sad story, but I felt as though it fits in here. For those of you who have read this far; I wish you whatever good fortune & faith you need to reach whatever goal you are aiming for. Much love, friends; from an Aspie, amputee & sepsis survivor... 💕✨❤️✨💕