My grandpa died from a form of Mesothelioma on September 17, 2001. It was a sad day. We knew that he had lung cancer three months prior to his death.

Six months after he died, something within me awoke. At first, I felt so devastated that he was gone. I was sad, depressed, and self-medicated with food. He was the glue that held our family together.

But then, six months later, I realized that I needed to take charge of my life and of my health. Toward the end of spring, I got my first apartment. Thereafter, I began a journey to better health. And because of it, I lost 70 pounds.