My Grandmother Has Died

My grandmother died last night.

I don't understand it. Maybe I should have seen it coming, as she was having some difficulty getting on in years. Her legs were swollen last month, she'd been falling repeatedly, and she moved to the nursing home as a result of all that, but she seemed to be getting better. Her legs were better, and she was learning how to walk again. Then she had some trouble breathing a little, though it seemed like a minor malady at the time. But when you're ninety, nothing really is a "minor malady."

She passed away at about 9:30 PM. My aunt called my mother with the news, and my mother started crying and screaming. We had both felt miserable about sending my grandmother to a nursing home, given the abysmal state of nursing home care in this country, but there was little else we could do. Neither one of us - nor my aunt - can help but wonder if maybe my grandmother had gotten better care, she might have lived another two years. I was counting on her to make it to a hundred - I had even planned to make arrangements for a big party on her hundredth birthday - but it is not to be. At least now she's in God's hands, and is reunited with my grandfather, who died 32 years ago.

The weaver of life has bestowed his answer upon my grandmother; her tapestry is complete. May she rest in peace.