I was six when I lost my parents. The adults whispered about foster care, and I was terrified. Then Grandpa stepped in: tired, hurting, but determined — “She’s coming with me.”
He became my world. He gave me his bedroom, packed my lunches, learned to braid my hair, and always attended my school events. I wanted to be a social worker like him. But we had so little: no trips, no extras, and his constant “We can’t afford that” made me resent him. I felt angry and ashamed for feeling that way.
When Grandpa got sick, I cared for him through my final school year. My fear grew as he weakened, and when he died just after my graduation, I fell apart. Bills piled up. I feared losing everything.
Then a bank called. I expected debt, but instead learned Grandpa had quietly saved for me for years — a trust for my education. He had said “no” so often because he was building my future. I found a letter from him explaining everything, and for the first time since his death, I didn’t feel lost.
The trust fully covers college, including tuition and a new phone. I applied to a top social work program and was accepted. Standing under the stars, I promised him, “I’m going, Grandpa — I’m going to save them all, just like you saved me.”