Many individuals, including myself, get too caught up in the motions of life at times, forgetting to take a breath and enjoy everything we are blessed with. Every now and again we may notice a flower on a glorious day or a rainbow after a treacherous storm, but how often do we notice and appreciate the most beautiful gift in life–our loved ones?

At a young age, I was taught by my mom and Nana to tell the special people in my life how much they mean to me because no one knows what or who the future holds for anyone. All I knew growing up was that I could count on two people forever, my mom and her mom, my Nana. Nothing could separate me from these two women whom I have always idolized and admired. For fifteen years this statement stood strong and true in my heart as we rebuilt our three-woman house after Katrina, I started high school, my mom worked endless hours, and my Nana attended many worrisome doctor appointments. We were best friends, the “three amigos.” That was until the morning of July 22, 2011, when my mom and I rushed to help my eighty-six year old Nana stand up from what we thought was a clumsy stumble against the wall with her walker. That was the moment the pin pulled from the slowly ticking bomb that would begin to defuse and would torturously linger on for seven dark, hopeless months.

That morning is an unforgettable snapshot that loiters in my mind and has led me to appreciate everyone I meet and every breath I have and will take in this lifetime. I remember it all as if it was yesterday the darkness still hovers over the thoughts and mental images.

Just like any other summer morning, everyone else in the house is awake as I walk drowsily out of my room into the stingingly luminous hallway. The radio is playing in the bathroom as my mom is singing along, getting ready for work, and my Nana is strolling down the hall with her squeaky walker. It is way too early for me to be up, so I decide to go back to bed. Momentarily I hear, “Carlie! Hurry in here! I need your help now!”

Of course my mom would yell for my help as soon as I get comfortable, but I swiftly head for my door, only to see my Nana’s walker, wheels spinning, thrown against the opposite wall in which she fell against. My mom and I help her back to her feet and I take Nana straight to the kitchen to do her physical therapy exercises, but she insists that she just lost her balance. My mom calls her sister and the ambulance, and they arrive almost simultaneously. My Nana then goes off in a huff, strapped to the bed. She mumbled on, arguing that we were overreacting until the doors were sealed tight.

After a few long hours, the result of a massive stroke is revealed and the right side of her body and brain were officially paralyzed from that moment on. This news sent chills crawling down my spine, and my heart sank deeper as I got the urge to run to her room and hold her as tight as I possibly could. We knew from this moment on she would need twenty-four hour assistance whenever she was released to go home, and my family was ready for the challenging job.

Over the next few months, my mom and I were my Nana’s main caretakers. We helped her eat, re-learn names and faces, and the hardest thing of all, we were her company in the bleak days and haunting nights. I vividly remember one night in particular, which was one of the most poignant things I have ever experienced.

My clock read 2:34 A.M. as I despairingly walked to my Nana’s room to see why she was screaming at the top of her lungs that night. These screaming outbursts happened often sometimes they would last for seconds and some for hours, but I tried to comfort her as best as I could. Every time it began, my blood would boil a bit more out of rage because there was absolutely nothing I could do to take the pain away. My main job was loving her unconditionally, which became the biggest struggle on nights like this when I could not pry my eyes open due to exhaustion and I should have been resting for school the next morning; instead, I slumped in the cold, unpleasant chair next to her bed, holding her limp right hand in the daunting darkness. My Nana would daily shriek in agony, “Where am I? Why am I here? What did I do to deserve this? Can I just die?” I would answer the ones I knew the answers to, trying not to cry, and repeat how much I love her each time.

Surprisingly enough, before nights like these I did not realize how different things would be without her conscious and active everyday when I came home from school; even more so, when the day came that she would not be here at all. The months passed in a blurry whirlwind, and my time with her became more and more precious as the seconds raced by. We continued on the fluctuating, mixed pattern of days that were horrendous and days that were somewhat normal, but I learned to appreciate every moment I got to spend with her. This even includes the ones following her diagnosis of sepsis, which is a venomous infection in the bloodstream that is extremely difficult to fight through, but somehow she beat it after spending two days in a medicated coma. When this happened on September 22, 2011, the painful numbness took over my body as I sat next to her bed in the intensive care unit saying as many prayers as I could. After two treacherous days of no response and constant bad news, she lightly squeezed my hand as she slowly gained consciousness over the next few hours. Every ounce of energy I built up over fifteen years was released at that moment as the tears streamed down my face and I joyfully squealed. My Nana’s recovery was a miracle and a life changing moment that I will never forget. Even though the roller coaster of tolerable and intolerable days and nights continued, there has not been a day that passed in which I did not thank God for blessing me with my Nana and every moment I had with her. On February 22, 2012, this roller coaster came to a gloomy, lifeless halt, but the lessons I learned from my relationship and experience with my Nana continues to live on today. We all experience different roller coasters, but I believe each one is finely tuned for a specific reason. Whether it is a good experience or not, I will never forget to appreciate and express my love for the people I am given to lean on and learn from on my vivacious journey before my time runs out.