Even at the brink of losing everything, she is a fighter to the core.
Her grip is stronger these days, more desperate. Sometimes she doesn't even need to hold on to some thing. She would just continue to reach out, sometimes finding our hands, clasping tightly. Sometimes more restless, grasping at seemingly empty air. Her arms stretch out, high above her head. What are you volunteering for? Why are you raising your hand?
What do you see in your mind, Grandma? You have been sleeping for a while now. Do you have visions of the past, of your childhood dreams? Regrets have abandoned your bedside. What could have been, had been so you do not have to worry.
Last Sunday might have been my last visit. You opened your eyes at the sound of my voice and I think you might have recognized me, but I cannot be sure. I will believe that you did, though. I will miss you.
