My grandma has cancer, and she doesn't know yet. They went for a dialysis a few weeks back, and today, my aunt got the results and told us.

I tried not to cry. I was cutting cake. I wasn't expecting that moment to be something so tragically unforgettable, but it was.

The thing is, just yesterday, life was so simple. My sister and I were in my grandpa's farm, spending some time with my mother's family. There was food when we wanted to eat, and there was laughter and relaxation and pure bliss. And then today, we went home, ate ice cream, watched some cartoons, and the bomb dropped.

I wish I could turn my back on this information. I wish my whole life, so carefully unfolding before me, wasn't irrevocably altered by this hurtful, offensive truth. I wish I didn't feel like bursting to tears every time I look at my grandmother, so frail, yet still the strongest woman in the world. I wish there was some way to make this all just a stupid mistake. I wish there was one specific day I could choose to bring back, but it's all mixed in and nothing special really stands out.

The battle has already began, but the warrior is still without her armor. I'm scared of losing her. She's the one constant thing in my life; my comfort. But eventually, she must go. And if there's any chance of her winning this war, then I'll wage everything to be on her side. But if it's hopeless, if in fate it has been written that she surrenders in the end, then I hope God takes her quick, skipping all the pain. If anyone in the world doesn't deserve an ounce of pain, it's her.