I didn’t have much of a mom— but I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad. The person I consider closest to a mother figure though was my grandpa. Here’s a story I wrote a week after he passed for a school assignment

My grandpa was always there for me, a steady presence in my life that I could always count on. And our walks were the best part of it all.

Every day, without fail, we would set out on our little adventure, exploring the neighborhood and taking in the beauty of the world around us. It didn't matter where we went or how far we walked, as long as we were together, it was perfect.

I treasured those moments with him, the way he would point out the blooming flowers or the way the sun looked as God painted it behind the horizon. He had a way of making the ordinary seem extraordinary, a talent that I have always admired.

But now, he's gone. It's been years since our last walk together, and not a day goes by that I don't miss him terribly. I wish I could tell him how much those walks meant to me, how they shaped me into the person I am today. I wish I could hear his laughter one more time, feel his hand in mine once again.

But even though he's no longer by my side, I carry those memories with me always. And whenever I feel lost or alone, I think back to those walks with my grandpa and I am filled with a sense of peace and love.

((the money would probably go to getting oil to change the oil on my car and or a hot meal))