The night we found out my grandmother was dying was the first time I'd ever seen my father cry. I remember vividly hearing his car pull into the driveway late at night and seeing him get out of the car alone, without her or my mother. When he came into the house he had this look on his face I'd never seen before, and I knew we were going to lose her. Even though she was 80 years old when she died, it was a shock. She was such a strong woman it had almost seemed like she'd live forever, I'd never even considered that I might lose her, not now, not ever. She cared so much for people and was deeply involved in our community. The day I returned to school they read an homage to her over the intercom, over 300 people came to her funeral, including mayors from surrounding towns and a state congressman. Up until her death she served as mayor of my town, and volunteered for programs at my local library, elementary school, and food pantry. She went out of her way to help people. Since her death I have tried to be like her, letting some of her kindness live on in me. I am not perfect by any means, but because of her I try my hardest to at least be kind. I have volunteered for some of the same programs she had, organizing food at the food pantry, leading an art program at my library, and even joining a program called Roots of Empathy, working as an instructor for elementary school students teaching emotional literacy. I want to make the world a better place, just like she did