She raised me as her own daughter from the day I was born 32 years ago.

She loved me like no one else has ever loved me in my life.

She stayed on the sidelines during the toughest days I have ever known.

She showed me more unconditional love and support than I ever imagined.

She taught me to live, to love, to be a lady, to be a mom, and to survive.

For 78 years, she had always been as healthy and stubborn as a mule.

About a year ago, she stood by my side and fought tooth and nail to help me survive a bitter custody battle and win primary custody of my wonderful two-year-old son who is her only great-grandchild and the love of her life and my life.

After struggling with everything within her and seeing me prevail in court, she suddenly became deathly ill. Within days he lost the ability to walk, eat, dress, and even get out of bed.

I quit my job to take care of her 24 hours a day. I spent every possible moment by her bedside, talking to her, trying to feed her, bathe her, brush her hair, change her clothes, and get her to take her medicine.

Finally my uncle, who lives 100 miles from us, answered my calls for help. He forced her to see a specialist in her home state.

He spent three months in one of the best hospitals in the country with more than ten doctors trying to find out what was wrong with him. He suffered a heart attack. She had to be on life support. She was forced to undergo several emergency surgeries to remove a tumor, to remove a blood catheter and a few more to save her life, they said.

My son was not allowed to visit her. She cried a lot. She begged me to bring it. She constantly asked about me. They told me that I could not visit it for various reasons, mainly because I was too excited. I called her every day until the phone was taken from her.

I thought I was going to die.

He gave me a list of things I needed to know, like where the keys to the security deposit were hidden, where his cash savings were kept in the house, where the bank accounts were and how much money he had and who was supposed to get what and when. she died.

I prayed every day, several times a day. I started a nightly ritual with my son, who learned to say “God bless Ger”, when he was just saying other more common words, like “daddy”.

Somehow, somehow, somewhere, God was listening. He gave me the greatest blessing and answered our prayers about a month ago. Doctors eventually identified Grannio’s disease as ‘vasculitis’ and began intensive treatment.

Two weeks ago she was transferred from the hospital to a rehab center, just 10 miles from our home. She cannot walk and is just beginning to regain the use of her arms, but she is alive. Thanks god.

God granted us a miracle bringing my Grannio back to life.

My faith is unfathomable.