Post-Scripts....

It would seem that the person who was dying was going through the most change. Afterall, moving from life to death (and in Grandma's case, back to life again) seems to be quite a complex event. Question: If the survival instinct is indeed true, does a body have to work harder to die or to live when ravenged by illness?

Anyhoo...Grandma died. And it was as peaceful as it could be.

However, I am amazed at the flurry of activity that has taken place since Hospice called this morning. My mother hasn't stopped moving. Me...I went back to sleep and tried to sort out what it meant for my favorite grandma to be gone.

I had to wake up however, because the phone won't stop ringing. Last night, people streamed in and out of hospice and it was peaceful and quiet. Hushed tones mingled with outbursts of laughter - lots of laughter because Grandma = a good story.

I'm writing now because my mother doesn't need me to do anything. She only needs me to just be there.

Of course, Mom is talking to another cousin about my other grandma, who was checked into the hospital yesterday. She's 86. There's nothing wrong with her, but she doesn't like to be alone, so she goes to the hospital for a few days a month so that she can have some company (she's run off her family, so she doesn't get many visitors at home). We now call her "Last Grandma Standing..."

It's funny how life goes on even when life stops.