The last person I’d lost was my grandmother in 2019. Her death meant a lot; smiling during the day and crying throughout the night, wondering what life is and almost getting retakes in my second last semester. Her death hit; I thought I’d never recover but I did. Then March 1st, 2024 happened.

Vee, as I like to refer to her, suffered three months of the same ordeal I suffered post covid. Her body hurt aggressively, her physique changed from small to smaller, and her legs could function no more. But there was hope. She would be fine because I was, and we would be aunts to each other’s children. We would also make and eat our money post-recovery because we believed she would make it.

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