my grandmother, for all intents and purposes, is giving in and giving up. she is no longer responsive, she has stopped taking food or water. it is only a matter of hours and days... they have started to give her morphine.
to paraphrase hamlet, this is a consummation devoutly to be wished.
outside the wind is picking up. a sudden rain sluices straight down, even while an errant wind whips the trees into a froth. the ghosts have gathered - i feel the presence of my great-grandparents, aunt babe and uncle tom, aunt katherine and uncle jack. betsey and johnny wave from the background. there are other faces, other presences whose names i do not know.
all year my grandmother has declared she doesn't want to be here - she wants to go home.
she is about to get her wish.