My grandmother died by a stroke in the summer of 1997 in Mongolia, where I use to live. She raised me since I was born and told me stories. She was like my mom, took care of me the best she could. I believe that nobody could have done a better job than her. Her death was really hard for me to live with.
I always treated her like my mother since my mother was not around all the time. She had dedicated her life to raise well-behaved and diligent children. She went to every parent-teacher conference, read me bedtime stories and she had many arguments with other mothers to defend me because I use to get in a fight with other kids a lot when I was little. All my life I depended on her. .
My grandmother was an old woman, yet she was strong. She never complained how much work she had to do and done. One day, we needed rice to make dinner but we did not have any rice left. My grandmother went out and bought 30Ib bag of rice and carried it by herself from the store, which was about 45 miles away from where we lived. .
In the summer of 1997, our family moved into a summerhouse to get fresh air. The summerhouses were located very far from the city and did not have any hospitals, police, or grocery stores. The summerhouse that we moved into was very small. My grandmother did not care the size of the house, because she wanted to move out there. She used to tell us "anything's better than nothing and cherish what you have." .
Couple of months after we moved to the summerhouse, my grandmother started having pains. I asked her if she needed any help with anything but she always told me "I am fabulous, it is just me getting old, don't you worry honey." .
One weekend, all my relatives came to visit my grandmother and had a little family get together party. We had very fun time and everybody was enjoying each other's company. But that night, my mom turned on the light and said she heard a weird noise; the noise was coming from my grandmother's room.