What keeps me up at night is thinking how best to grow my grandson. I am his guardian and to him, his "Mom." I have raised him alone since birth, losing his mother to drugs and other challenges. I opened my heart, my home to this child at age 62. Parenting his mother, sometimes well, sometimes not, for 18 years, I did not plan to parent again, but to put services in place for to raise her young son. Ten years later, this never happened. I am committed to do my best for this, "my" last, child. But I lie awake wondering what that is, facing his many emotional challenges, the current worldwide Pandemic , the future he faces as a multi-racial man in a prejudicial world, and the fears I face daily, knowing I can't do enough to make up for his loss and his needs; and that I won't be around to go the distance with him.