Waiting is the hardest part
I write this as I sit in the hospital room with my grandmother, waiting for her to die. She is truly at the end of her life, and all there is left for her to do is to pass on. She is 93. This is awful. She never wanted to end up in a hospital bed, unable to move, unable to speak. We have never wanted it for her. She has commented for many years that she doesn't know why she is still here. She has been ready for her heavenly reward for many years. My grandmother is a wonderful woman. Stoic is her middle name. Actually, it's Slavin, but Stoic is a better fit. She's also tiny, and everyone loves her. Even in the ER on Sunday night, people were commenting on how cute she was. Osteoporosis has not been kind and she is about 4'6." When I would come over to visit, she would say, "Oh good, a tall person is here. Can you get this down for me?" She is the only person EVER to refer to me as tall. Of course, this ...