Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.” Growing up, I had always observed people that I know being adventurous and courageous. They weren’t afraid of anything. Even though I had seen my elders live valiant lives, I have always been skeptical about trying new things that I have never experienced before. That skepticism has hindered me from living that spontaneous life that I had observed others having as I grew up. However, a family tribulation has taught me that life must be lived to the fullest, because it’s never known how much time one has left to live it.
One April night, my step mom came into my room and shut the door. She didn’t enter my room as her usual goofy self, which was strange to me. I knew something was wrong almost instantly. She told me that my grandma had randomly called my mom and told her that she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and that she had six months to live. Right away, my stomach had tied itself into knots and my face got really hot. I was speechless. It was the most unexpected news that I had ever received. For the rest of the night, I was alone in my room thinking about what I had just heard. My mind was racing with thoughts, and the knots in my stomach seemed to become tighter and tighter as the night progressed.
My grandma had seven children. She had called all of her children and informed them about her illness. My mom, my aunt, and my uncles immediately started planning for get-togethers to have so that we could spend time together as a family with my grandma before she passed away. My uncle Josh rented a large house on the Rogue River for my grandma to stay in (she lived in California and stayed in that house on the river while she was here in Oregon), and my family was over there to visit with my grandma every day. While my grandma was there, most people were teary-eyed, some people were smiling and cheerful as usual, and others had completely stoic faces. Although that time we spent together had brought up a lot of sad emotions, everyone cooked and ate together and had a good time. However, I started to notice the decline in my grandma’s health when I saw her. Her stomach was beginning to bloat from her cancer and her face was starting to turn into a sickly shade of gray. She was starting to be unable to be the lively and goofy person that she was.
The second time that I saw my grandma, she appeared even sicker than before. Her stomach was bulging out even more and her face was starting to sink in. It was difficult to see her like that, yet she made it easier by not letting her illness get the better of her. She tried to maintain that spark that we all loved about her. One night, all seven of her children and their families went and ate dinner in Galice. We all danced to the music that was playing and ate together. It was a bittersweet moment to see my grandma have her last dance with the family.
In August, I received a call to pack my bags because my grandma was about ready to pass away and I needed to go be with the family down in Pinole, California. I prepared four days worth of clothes and I drove down to California with my stepmom. We were laughing and cracking weird jokes as we usually do, but there was a tension in the air. We didn’t know what to expect once we got there and we didn’t know how long we would be staying. We arrived and there was over twenty people in my grandma’s house. My aunt, mom, sister, my grandma’s siblings and their spouses, my cousins, and my great-grandma were all there. I walked upstairs to my grandma’s bedroom and she was laying there asleep from the doses of morphine. She was awake earlier that day, but I had missed my chance to say “goodbye.” I saw her and then I went outside to have dinner with everybody. Everyone was laughing and it seemed like they were enjoying their time together, but everyone was suppressing their sadness with laughter.
That same night, most of us had to sleep on the uncomfortable floor. I slept upstairs next to my grandma’s bedroom near the stair railing. I had about two hours of sleep that night, until my mom woke me up to tell me to move. I automatically knew why I had to, but I was in shock. I moved onto the upstairs couch and my other family members woke up for one last goodbye. My relatives got up and formed a line up the stairs to see my grandma. We all stayed up and talked for a while until my grandma was taken away, and then went back to sleep in preparation for the long drives that we all had to take in the morning.
The next morning, everyone acted like their usual selves, but it was noticeable that everybody was tired and worn out due to the lack of sleep. Most of us were trying to keep it together since we were surrounded by family, but a few could not hold it in and broke down. We knew it was going to be very challenging to grieve the loss of my grandma, but we stuck together as a family and supported each other during that difficult time.

That experience brought my family closer together than ever before, and it also taught me an important life lesson: life is like an hourglass; the grains of time continue to fall until there is nothing left. One of the last things that my grandma said to me was, “You can’t be scared to go out and try new things and explore the world.” Until she passed away, I didn’t take what she had said into consideration. I began to think about how quickly my grandma’s life had changed once the doctor told her about her illness. Was she satisfied with her life? Did she live with no regrets? Now that I know how quickly the candle of life can burn out, I’ve learned to live each day like it was my last, surrounded by the people that I love and care about and to not be afraid to experience new things to make my life the best that it can be.