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The Atlantic Freshman year was going to mean sleepovers, new friends, and independence. The coronavirus changed all that. Getty / Adam Maida / The Atlantic COVID-19 has destroyed the sanctuary of my multigenerational household. At 3 a.m., on a Thursday in December, my grandmother died in a New Orleans hospice from the coronavirus, six days after she had tested positive. I am only 14, and this is my first time experiencing loss. Every day, I struggle with her death. Sometimes I pretend I can see her, with her dyed red hair that was graying at the roots. I want to feel like she’s still with me. Some days, she would hold my hand as we danced to all kinds of music in her kitchen. Other times, she’d greet me with “Hey, girl” when I walked through the door, as if she had the greatest tea of the day to spill. I know my Grandy, also named Clementine Victoria Baptiste Cager, would never have wanted to leave this Earth like a withering sunflower. Just to go to the ba ....