My maternal grandmother died this morning at 8:00 a.m. My mother sat with her through the night, and when she stepped out to grab a cup of coffee, my grandma made her exit.
She had been telling people that grandpa, who passed away just over a year ago, has been coming to visit her, and that she is ready to go join him. Even with increasing confusion due to dementia and other health issues, she knew when it was her time and let us know.
And now she's with grandpa again, at least as we understand these things, and I'm happy that she doesn't have to hang onto a life anymore that she was ready to leave.
My urge is to curse this whole life/death/rebirth business while, at the same time, I am grateful to it for letting us exit when we're done. This grief thing is a funny business.
Thank you for your life, Nellie Bartel. It was a good one.
PS. I also wrote this poem: "We All Straddle the Line (on the loss of my maternal grandmother)".