This is a reflective essay on the death of my Gran.
PLEASE CAN YOU PROOFREAD IT AND CORRECT AND IDENTIFY ANY GRAMMAR OR PUNCTUATION ERRORS, RIGHT DOWN TO THE SEMI-COLONS AND COMMAS.
ANY HELP IS GREATLY APPRECIATED, AS I AM NOT GREAT AT ENGLISH.
Death? Usually, it is a subject of which no one dares speak of, almost forbidden territory; at least it was in my solemn upbringing, seen as an event which somehow does not affect anyone dear or significant to me ? only others. This indeed was the concept I continued to perceive and naturally accept back then. How immature was I?
Gran had been ill for some time. Days, weeks, months passed me by in a haze, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. It wasn?t long before her diagnosis was confirmed. It was cancer. From that grim day on, Gran's health continued to deteriorate, being drawn ever further in a rapid downward spiral. Even though I wasn't supposed to, even though no one wanted me to understand the depths of her illness, I knew she was not herself anymore; I knew that she was not my Gran. Every hour of every day suddenly evolved into a harrowing mix of desperation and fear. What was the outcome? death? It seemed inevitable. Feelings of dread and anguish were crushing me, but nothing could compare to how desperate the situation felt. I had not the slightest inkling of what I could do to help.