Paypal account is Kokonjijr8@gmail.com Title:One Last Hug: Helping an Orphan Reconnect with Her Only Family My Story: When I was 9 years old, I lost both my parents in a car accident. The world turned gray, and I felt utterly alone—until my grandmother stepped in. She was 68 at the time, living on a fixed income, but she didn’t hesitate. She took me into her small, weathered home in rural Saskatchewan, where the walls were lined with quilts she’d stitched herself and the kitchen always smelled of cinnamon. She became my mother, my father, and my best friend. For years, we relied on each other. She taught me how to mend clothes, grow vegetables in her patchwork garden, and find joy in simple things: the first snowfall, a perfectly ripe tomato, old jazz records. But when I turned 18, I had to leave her to find work. Jobs in her town were nonexistent, and I moved across the country to Vancouver, praying I could save enough to return. That was six years ago. I’ve cobbled together a life here—working retail, cleaning offices, surviving paycheck to paycheck. Every month, I promise myself I’ll book a trip home. But then reality hits: a toothache I can’t ignore, a broken phone I need for work, or a week without shifts. The closest I get to her is our Sunday calls. Her voice cracks when she says, “I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” but lately, she’s started forgetting little things. Last week, she asked twice if I’d eaten dinner. Grandma is 82 now. Her hands, once steady as she braided my hair, shake when she writes letters. She still sends me birthday cards with $5 tucked inside—money I know she can’t spare—and signs them, “Your old lady, always here.” But I’m not there. And I’m terrified I’ll lose her before I can say goodbye. **Why This Journey Matters:** My grandmother is all I have. No siblings, no aunts, no safety net. She’s the only person left who remembers my mother’s laugh or how my father used to hum while fixing his truck. She’s the keeper of my childhood, the one who still calls me “sunshine” even though my world feels so dark without her. I don’t want her to leave this world thinking I stayed away by choice. I need her to know I fought to come home. Where Your Support Will Go: - Flights to Saskatchewan:$500 (the cheapest round-trip I could find—it’s a remote province, and prices are steep). - Bus Fare to Her Village: $80 (no trains or rideshares go there; the last bus leaves at 5 a.m.). - A Photo Album of Us: $30 (I’ve saved pictures of us gardening, baking, and laughing—I want her to hold them). - Emergency Fund: $50 (her area has spotty healthcare; if she falls ill while I’m there, I need to help). Total Goal:$660 Your Kindness Will Mean: This trip isn’t a vacation. It’s a race against time to hug the woman who gave me a childhood after mine was stolen. To sit with her on the porch swing, listening to crickets, and tell her, “You saved me.” If you donate: -$5buys the tea we’ll sip while she tells me stories about my mom. - $20 covers the taxi to the bus station when my flight lands at dawn. - $50 helps replace her worn-out kettle so she can stay cozy this winter. I’ll share photos of our reunion and a video message from her thanking you. From One Human to Another: I’ve never asked for help like this before. Pride doesn’t keep you warm at night, though. And it won’t get me home. If you’ve ever loved someone who felt like *everything*, you’ll understand why I’m begging for this chance. Thank you for seeing me. — P.S-If we surpass the goal, I’ll use every extra cent to fill her pantry or fix the leak in her roof. She’d never admit she needs it, but I know.