21 March 2005
18 March 2005
And all I can think of--of all the possible thoughts I have of this woman I once considered my favorite in the world--is that time my mom and I picked her up at the hospital. Gran was visiting my grandfather who'd had a heartattack and was to die a few days later. This was twenty-some years ago; I was eight. Seven or eight. Mom and I pulled up in the turnabout to Gran waiting by the entrance. Understandably distressed, but my Gran nonetheless. And as she stepped off the curb to get in the car... she fell. My 70 year old grandma fell, hitting the cold, black pavement beneath her. My heart sank.
And that's what loops through my head as my grandmother enters her last week of life...