I was in the ninth grade when my maternal grandmother (the woman in the photo collage above) passed away. It was 4:45am when I jolted awake. My brother and sister-in-law were still asleep (or so I thought) as was my nephew. My mother spent the night at the hospital in Weslaco. It was a Saturday. I turned on the TV to see what was on – watched an episode of The Mask animated series and then whatever Saturday Morning Cartoons had to offer – ABC, if I recalled correctly. I made failed attempts to go back to bed. Nothing worked. I got the call around nine that morning. My older brother, who’d been living at my grandmother’s house in Donna, Texas, called the house. His…