To be perfectly honest im not entirely sure what to write about for this blog prompt. I guess ill just sort of start and see what happens. This is about an experience that really made you grow up, but in all reality I don't think im anywhere near done growing and I cant even think of one exact instance of epiphany for me.  As much as im an adult in one sense and I act it (well, most of the time) I still rely on my mommy when I need help and I still sleep with my two favorite stuffed animals every night because they offer protection in their little fuzzy bodies. I guess the closest experience I have is when my grandpa died. He died of some form of dementia, so it was a long drawn out process. When I was little he was fine and I have many fond memories of him. He was an old school Italian so he was definitely a bit chauvinistic, a doctor, and he was stubborn as they come, completely set in his ways and no one was going to tell him otherwise. Me and my older cousins that remember him before he was ill like to tell stories of him because he was unintentionally hilarious.  One time he was out driving (back when you DID go out just to drive around) and the women in front of him was really pissing him off. As he passed her and finally got a good look at her he said "Jesus! everyone has a right to be ugly but SHE is abusing the privilege!!" We love those goofy stories of the ridiculous things he would say, because these are the things that shaped my mother, aunts and uncles, and that has shaped how they raised me and my cousins.  So the fact that all my younger brother and sister remember is a scary guy in a wheelchair is really disheartening.  As the dementia got worse and worse, he could speak less and less, he would get really frustrated because he couldn't say what he wanted so he would squeeze your hand painfully hard while yelling in Italian. That was the one thing he never lost, before he ceased being able to speak he stilled remembered his native language. Italy was where he met and married my grandmother and that was the language they spoke in their household. I guess its kind of cute that that's what stayed in his final memory but my little siblings don't see it that way All they have in their minds is the scary old man screaming at them in Italian.  I remember when my grandfathers time finally came. It was pretty quick in the end, his organs shut down and he died all within about a week. But that's not what I remember most. I remember my parents telling me what was happening because I was the oldest. They told my little brother and sister that my mom was going to long Island for the week to help my grandmother clean the house or something, but they told me that really it was because my grandfather was about to die. This whole experience was the first time I really saw my mom cry and that was a shocking experience. I guess that's the real growing up experience in this whole story, seeing that your parents, the ones who you rely on for everything, are just human. They are not the strong pillars that we see as little kids, just humans, who laugh and cry and feel pain. Its hard to see that everyone is susceptible to life. Being Given responsibility with such big things is a reality of life and its hard but we all learn.  We all have to face the fact that people aren't immune. So, I guess I still don't know where this post is going because im still growing up, with my teddy bear by my side. Maybe one day ill grow up fully, and ill have a real moment to come back and write this blog on, but for now ill hold onto that teddy bear.