How often do you tell your friends or family, “I love you?” Losing both of my grandparents was the worst time of my life. The loss of a loved one can really affect you as a person, and I've learned to appreciate my time with the people I love.

I was born in Olympia, Washington, and moved shortly after to Great Falls, Montana. My dad was on the road as a pipeline worker a lot, but he has a property just out of town and that's where my mom and I lived. We eventually moved out of my dad’s, and I went there just on weekends. Along with my dad, I had my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, all around the town of Great Falls. When my mom would go to work, I would always go to my grandparents’ house. I never realized it, but each day I was there, from the minute my grandma would get up for the day, there was a beer in her hand. Being so young, it never mattered to me. All I knew was that I was the one that got to use the cool can crusher, and take the tabs off each one to put in an empty milk jug at the end of each day. My cousins and I would fight over who got to do it, while my grandma just laughed and opened another. Because of this, she sort of just did her own thing, so I was always with my grandpa. Grandpa would come in for breakfast in the morning. I’d sit with him while he read the newspaper and did the daily sudoku. Then I'd follow him back to the shop.

When I was eight, my mom asked me if I wanted to move to Washington. Washington is where all my “extra” family was, and, when we would visit in the summer, I always had an amazing time. So, of course, I wanted to. During this time, I was terrible to my dad. I acted as if I wouldn't miss him or anybody else, because moving was going to be exciting. We eventually left, on bad terms with my dad, and not remembering if I even said goodbye to my grandparents.

A couple years went by, with whole new events happening that changed my life. There was one day in particular, though. When I came home from school, I was told my grandpa had been found dead in his shop. It absolutely broke me and still hurts to this day. Seeing my dad cry for only the second time in my life was what really broke me, knowing my dad lost his best friend, and I lost my old one, without even saying a simple I love you to him since I had left Montana.

Two years later, my grandma passed away from liver failure. She drank herself practically to death. I honestly believe that she knew what she was doing; she just gave up. I was shown a picture from my mom, of my once healthy-looking grandma, turned into what looked like a living skeleton. I knew she was in the hospital, but I didn't want to speak to her. I think that I just pushed it to the side, not knowing what to think. So, I didn't call her. I didn't go see her, or tell her I loved her. After a couple weeks, my grandma was dead, and I was on my way back to Montana for another funeral.

The guilt from never saying goodbye or a simple I love you to the people that loved me the most still lingers. It's made me appreciate the people I do have, while trying to forgive myself for my harsh words and behavior. Those people I will never get back, and never get the chance to talk to again, but I can try my best to make up for it by telling the people that I love, “I love you.”

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