grandma
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GRANDMA
I always think about the day my grandmother, Emily Sanders, died. She was sixty-three years old when she died. The reason she died was sad and upsetting although the funeral was even worse. Now that it is all done and over with it's a lot easier to talk and think about. This experience has changed my life forever, in more ways than anybody could imagine.
It all started at the annual family reunion, this year held in Grandrapids Mi. My grandma insisted that she could walk up this, muddy practically vertical, hill. I offered to bring the car down so she didn't have to try walking up it, but she didn't need anyone to bring down the car for her. She was so skinny and petite that nobody wanted to let her walk, but she was also so hardheaded and stubborn that nobody could stop her. So she walked...