Harold Lee Treadway Memorial Scholarship

My world was rocked the day I realized that my grandmother truly was acting differently than I was used to, and that it wasn't a symptom of an overactive imagination. I suddenly saw with clear eyes the shockingly gray hair that seemingly appeared from nowhere, the single word forgetfulness, the inability to express full sentences when the thought was trapped behind her brown eyes. My beautiful, kind, clever, artistic grandmother was slowly slipping through my fingers, a victim of ruthless time. My grandmother, Katy Stanberry, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and dementia in late 2021 to early 2022. I was in my freshman year of high school, struggling to find my people and mold myself into the person I wanted to become. My father and I began to take weekend trips down to upstate South Carolina, where my grandparents lived, to spend as much time with her as possible. After a few months, she stopped teaching me her beloved French words-of-the-day, and soon after that, she lost the ability to paint. This was the most heart wrenching part of the loss. She had put herself through college at Converse University and University of South Carolina Upstate in order to obtain her teaching license and bachelors in fine art. She channeled immense emotion into her art and typically painted the world through her eyes in shades of pastel and soft lines. My grandparents traveled all over the country, and every place they stopped she would fill a digital camera and her iPhone camera roll to the brim with pictures of animals, plants, sunsets, and beautiful, miraculous people. She was the beautiful, miraculous person reflected through her art. She entered Heaven's gates in February of 2024. Throughout this process, I have learned that nothing in life is guaranteed, except love for other people. I have always known that Jesus loves me and that I have the opportunity to act Christ-like for the benefit of humanity, but nothing tested my faith like my grandmother's diagnosis. I have experienced heartbreak, difficulties in my home life, and death. However, seeing my grandmother, with all the love in her heart, slip slowly and sadly away. The most difficult period of her struggle was when she could no longer talk, feed herself, bathe herself, even look me in the eyes. I could tell she recognized her beloved granddaughter and could see the pain in her eyes when she became incapable of communicating that love to her family. I have also learned that the only constant in life is Jesus. When everything is taken away, only Christ remains. As I approach a new stage in life, going to college and entering the workplace, I cannot wait to carry my grandmother's legacy, her love, and the beauty of Christ to all the new people I will meet. She deserves to know that she will always matter.