"Christine Stover, a 67 year old resident of Utica, Missouri, passed away at 4:20 a.m., April 13, 2016 at her residence where she was under family members and hospice care,” read the funeral program. I couldn’t believe this was reality as I was sitting at my best friend's funeral, my Grandma Christine. My faith took a plunge in a way I didn’t expect; fear, anger, and acceptance got me through this difficult time. Fear: I was scared. I didn’t understand why this was happening. I was afraid that if this could happen, anything else could happen. I would lie in bed at night and pray with fear coursing its way through my body. I would dream about happy moments I had with my grandma, and remember them so vividly. In my dream she was happy, and we were both laughing as we sat at her shop gossiping about drama in a small town. Then it would come back all at once like the first time I heard it: “Grandma has stage four glioblastoma cancer.” “How long?” I asked over and over. There was never an answer given to me because it was inevitable that she wouldn’t make it. My faith was shattering, and my love for God was beginning to dwindle to nothing: “Why is God scaring my family like this?” For the first time in my life I was questioning my faith. Anger: I was angry with God. I was angry because I knew he could do something to change the outcome,and he didn’t. Weeks is all it took for the cancer to spread, and as it spread, my grandma was getting worse. Her body was shutting down. Even though she was the one who was ill, who was fighting, she was the positive one. I never saw her cry while she was sick. The goofy smile she had remained the entire time. Her love for her family grew more and more each day. That’s what didn’t make sense to me. How could a person who is dying be happy? Why is she the one getting me through this, and I don’t have the cancer? My anger towards God grew day by day. Acceptance: It had been one month and that one month felt like a thousands years. My grandma was too weak to go back and forth for chemotherapy and radiation treatments. She was now on hospice, and her only form of communication with us was the occasional head nodding of yes or no. There were moments when she would heal a little and was able to get a few words out. Sitting in what once was the family room by my grandma’s hospice bed, holding her hand, she was asking for my papa, “David, David!” she was yelling. I assured her I was right there with her and that grandpa was outside. My grandma reached over and grabbed my hand. She said my name faintly, “Lillian, I see them.” In this moment I was thrown off guard. I didn’t understand what she meant. In silence, I sat there until she squeezed my hand tighter and said quietly, “The angels, I see them.” With my lack of faith in the past month, I convinced myself it was the cancer, and she was being delusional. This was until she convinced me, “They have games for me and they want me to go, I can see them Lillian.” With tears rolling down my cheek, my heart filled with warmth. I had a reassuring feeling that had not been with me for quite some time. Choking down more tears, I told her, “It’s okay grandma, I believe you; you can go.” This is the moment that I accepted faith and realized she needed to be in a better place. Now I knew I could accept God back into my life. Moving On: The quote “everything happens for a reason,” always seemed a little cliche to me but sitting in the funeral home is when it all made sense. It had been a month since I accepted my grandma's fate with cancer, and since then I had reconnected my relationship with God. Not only had my grandma battled with cancer for the past two months, but I battled my own fight as well. The battle with my faith. Fear, anger, and acceptance all got me to the state of mind I am in today. Sitting in the front row of the funeral home with the casket in front of me, I knew I could move on. I had accepted the outcome that my grandma is in a better place now, and so am I. My faith is now stronger and my relationship with God is the best it has ever been.