My grandma is dying, and I don't know what to do.
It's not a matter of if, but a matter of when, and it's time. It's her time. What she's become isn't her anymore. It's just a body that lays there, staring blankly at the ceiling, seeing and reacting to nothing. It's not my grandma, who cut my hair and encouraged my art. It's just.....a vessel. The
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