Wait for me Grandma

I’m scared I’m not going to be able to see my grandmother again.

Last time I saw her five years ago, she was overweight. My sister told me she’s like Skeletor now.

She’s okay, bored. My dad tells me that she still asks about me, “the American”.

I’m stressed I won’t make it back to France to hold her against me a little bit more. I’m mad because I didn’t think it would be that hard to afford (time and money) to fly back real quick to say hi.

I missed my foster dad’s last days. I missed my grandpa’s funeral. If I miss both for her because I did everything right (not only according to me, but to everyone around) and worked harder than ever, I’m going to lose my shit.

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