I lost the one grandma I had left. The one grandparent, for that matter, I had ever really known. I was so close to her, even if I lived a couple hundred miles away. She practicly raised me when both my parents were working and had to try and support me and my two older brothers. I was always interested in her fun little things that she would make. I got old enough to learn how and she taught me every little trinket. Her death didn't hit me until I was at her memorial service. I was probably the closest of the bunch of grandkids. I wish I could have been there to see her one last time. Everyone at the memorial service said she was the sweetest, kindest person they have ever met, and she probably was, but they didn't know her strict, tough side. They hadn't seen her with us kids when we would do something wrong. Man she had a throat on her. She wouldn't ever lay a hand on us, except in loving manors, she would only yell. She always loved us with her whole heart. I really wish I could have seen her one last time. Grammy, as we called her, was so very weak looking the last time I got to see her. She was just so...strong when I was a child...it seemed as though she were a different person. When she died, life was well, I had just started school and cheer, I was doing well in both, all my friends were great. Then it happened. It seemed as though everything fell apart. I'm better now, but every time someone talks of how "uncool" their grandparents are, I say, "At least you still have them."