Last week, I moved in with my buddy in Arkansas for a school/finding myself opportunity. My grandma had been sick for a while, but was acting like she was going to get through it. I made sure to visit a couple times before I left. A couple days ago, my cousin called me saying Grandma's cancer had spread from her lungs to her bones, which was why she was in pain. All I could think about the past two days was how guilty I felt for moving here. I got a call this morning from Dad saying Grandma passed away this morning. It was peaceful, thank God. I don't know why, but I just feel so fucking guilty for leaving earlier than I originally planned. I really wanted to be there when she actually passed, and I was Grandmas favorite grandkid. I don't know why I'm typing this, just trying to get it off my chest I suppose.