As a young child, my grandmother was always there for me. She babied me, loved me and spoiled me. I was a rebellious youngster, so eager to grow up and be on my own, not wanting anyone to treat me like a child. I often got agitated if not downright rude to my grandma who insisted on holding my hand as I crossed the street and always bought me ice cream. She always took my lip and gave kindness and patience in return. I took for granted how truly special her attention was for many years.

I grew up always busy focusing on the day-to-day activities of my life until the day my dad called to let me know my grandma was sick. "She has scleroderma" he said. I had never heard of scleroderma. It sounded ominous. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what it was. "Scleroderma is a disease that causes a hardening of the organs," he said. Now I was very sure I didn't want to know anymore.

My grandmother's illness progressed and my father called to tell me he thought she could use a visit from me. I took a vacation from my responsibilities as a mom with two little babies and went to see her. Hospice was making regular visits and my grandmother spent a great deal of time in bed. I remember sitting with her and seeing life in a completely different way. She was fearful of her departure from this world, and as I found comforting words for her, I found myself changing my life's priorities.

I was combing her beautiful silver hair as she gazed out her window and I told her, "God is giving you this special time to sit and be still with Him. When you so busy caring for others, running around working on your daily tasks, there is often not enough time to reflect. He is giving you the time to really see the beauty of what is outside of your window, the time to hear the birds sing to you, and most importantly the time to talk with him." When it was time for me to resume my life, I had established a bond with her deep in my heart that had not previously existed. I was changed forever.

After I went home she would call me and I could hear her pain and fear although she would try to hide it from me. I would remind her, "When it is your time, I know you will be my guardian angel." This brought us both peace.

I vividly recall the day I came home after being out for the day at a new job. My significant other reported grimly that my father had called and that I had better call him back right away at my grandmother's house. I called to find that my grandma had been hanging on for two days and was close to passing, but she was fighting it as hard as she could, even though her three sons and all of her surrounding family was present. He told me she was gasping for air and would not let go. The only thing they could think of was that she needed to speak with me. They held the phone to her ear so that I could say goodbye. "Grandma," I said, "I love you and it is okay to go now. Be with Grandpa and I know you will be my guardian angel from now on." As my father slowly took the phone from her ear, she passed away.

To this day, I am extremely grateful for the special time that I had with my grandma. I know she is my guardian angel, and I thank her for giving me the gift of appreciation – an appreciation of love, of life and even adversity.

Ethel, my beautiful wife of 45 years, always took such good care of me. I had a tendency to come home and plant myself on the couch after a hard day of work, never thinking about the fact that Ethel had also been working hard taking care of six children. She never complained. With a smile on her face and a swing in her step she always had dinner on the table for her family and we took her for granted.

I had retired, the kids were gone and we were looking forward to taking a break. I was thinking that it was time for me to have a rest after all of these years of working. I hadn't even considered the effects of all of the work Ethel had done for everybody. But one day she just fell down, unable to move. I tried to help her but I could not lift her. Her face was drooping, and she was moving her mouth but nothing would come out. The ambulance came and took her to the hospital where we found out that she had survived several severe strokes, but the doctor said permanent damage had been caused. "What did that mean?" I asked the doctor.

"She will never recover fully from these strokes and will be partially paralyzed," he said.

At first I was very angry, because I did not know what to do or how to do it. I was angry because the time I had planned on setting aside for fun was now gone. I think I was mostly angry because I was scared to death – my wife had always taken care of me and I realized I did not even know how to cook.

Ethel came home from the hospital after a two-week stay. She started physical therapy. She could not get to the bathroom or eat without assistance and was very reliant on me to help her. I had an aid come every day for the first week, because I did not think I could do it myself. I started watching the aid and didn't like what she did so I decided I was going to try.

Me, the most selfish man I know, started to take care of my wife. I learned how to cook, to do laundry, to clean my house and the best lesson of all how to really love and appreciate my wife for the first time.

That was two years ago, and my wife has recovered some of the use of her arms and legs, and her speech has improved. She doesn't need me as much as she did, but she still needs me. I am so thankful that I learned how to take care of her and now, that she is recovering, we are planning our dream vacation to Bermuda.