I had a good cry last night.
I was thinking about my grandma that died a couple of years ago.
She's the one that came from Germany and kicked the Nazi and almost got shot.
I've been thinking about how much I wish I had asked her.
She was kind of quiet and so was I.
There's so many questions I want to ask her and I wish I'd asked her to teach me German.
Now she's dead and I won't ever see her again.
And it hurts me more to think that when she was dying, I held her hand and talked to her.
I had to leave, but she wouldn't let go of my hand and I told her "Grandma, I have to go. I'll see you again!"
But she died before I could see her again.
I feel like a shitty granddaughter and a liar.