Inspiration. You don't know where it comes from until it's gone. That's how I feel about my grandma. I knew she had a tough life and many adventures but never brought myself to ask her. I knew that she would soon leave us, but this seems too soon. She was a mother, sister, grandmother, great-grandmother, aunt, and everything else. That's why we all miss and love her. It's because she meant something to us all. Someone so polite and caring is also hardworking and endearing. Enchanting everybody with her infinite potential to rise. Wanting to be independent because she could be. Still having humor with her on the dark days. Still taking care of everybody when all was not well with her. Losing half of her vision didn't stop her either. Roaming the streets alone, except for her walker, during the cold or heat until we find her. Some say that inspiration only hits once, I was being blasted by it my whole life and never knew it.