During the summer going into second grade, I received news that my godmother was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. I was seven years old at the time and I didn’t know what cancer was. I didn’t know that cancer was a disease that changed people’s life style. I didn’t know that cancer affects billions of lives, both the people with the disease and without. I simply assumed that my godmother was a bit sick. But she was going to be okay, right? As I approached the end of my elementary school years, my godmother’s condition worsened and I began to make daily visits to her house. My parents didn’t have the time to care for her since their business was blooming with more and more companies buying their goods. My godmother was divorced but she had two children, one a legal adult and the other a freshman in high school. The adult was busy, trying to pay off the medical bills. The freshman kept himself occupied with homework and his social life; he couldn’t accept the fact that his mother was sick. So, ten-year-old me took on the huge responsibility and cared for her. I road my bike to her house everyday, made sure she took the medicine her doctor had prescribed, and kept her company. We shared a special bond; a bond that could be called unbreakable. My godmother stayed strong for several years, always giving people the I-know-I’m-sick-but-I-can-do-it look. My godmother wanted to be treated like an ordinary adult, one that could make her own meals, take out her own garbage, and go shopping alone. The medicine and the surgeries worked for awhile, but they just weren’t enough. On February 24, 2011, my godmother died peacefully in her sleep.
About two years after her death, I came across the Fault in Our Stars by John Green in a bookstore located near Washington D.C. I don’t remember why I was so attracted to the book; maybe it was the clever title that refers to Shakespeare or the attractive cover. But I picked it up and started reading the first few pages. I immediately began to devour the book, taking in every single word on each page. I was so intrigued by Hazel’s journey with Augustus Waters and I found myself thinking of my godmother often. Oh my god, my godmother had a blue teddy bear, too!, I said to myself when Hazel talked about Bluie the stuffed teddy bear. My godmother and her family celebrated her half birthdays, as well, I recalled as Hazel’s mom shouts, “HAZEL! IT’S YOUR THIRTY-THIRD HALF BIRTHDAY!” Hey, that’s what my godmother would do, I thought when Hazel climbed those steep steps in Anne Frank’s house. Then, towards the end of your book, I came across a single line that changed my life. Augustus Waters says, “I don’t suppose you can forget about it and treat me like I’m not dying.” I stared at this line for nearly thirty minutes as I wondered how that could have possibly been connected to my godmother’s feelings. Then came my big “Eureka!” moment. My godmother was still a person, right? She wasn’t this complex “thing” that I cared for. She was a person with various emotions and thoughts. I realized that sick people, who were still people, were just going through a hard time in their life and one thing that some of them desperately wanted was to be treated like a normal human being.    
A wave of regret followed my “Eureka!” moment. For years, I had treated my godmother like a sick person, telling her to not go outside on her own because something bad might happen and reminding her that lack of sleep would make her condition worsen. I was so focused on getting my godmother what she needed that I forgot to give her what she wanted; to be treated normally. I wish that my godmother was alive. I wish she could see how my thoughts have matured. Sometimes, I do think she is watching me, looking down from up above. I hope she's proud of me.