Kevin's grandmother died on Sunday. She was 93. At Thanksgiving dinner she had told my father she was ready to move on. And she did. Last Thursday she fell and broke her hip, as old women do, and then I guess she thought it was the perfect out. We went to see her a couple days after the fall, when they had gotten her settled and comfortable at home, on hospice. We woke her up. Here, we told her, here are the kids come to see you! And she raised her head. And, oh!, she said. And she looked at them like they were puppies, and cooed. She smiled with them and let us hold her hand for a few moments. Then she let her head fall back onto her pillow again and fell asleep.
That was the last time.