I hope I am not doing the wrong thing here. I feel compelled to share my own similar story and if AR doesn’t mind, maybe others can too.
She was one of the greatest women I ever knew. She was the glue that held the family together, a resounding voice in the community, a dedicated servant of God through her church. I didn’t know any of this at the time. At 8, all I knew was Gram didn’t look the same, she looked scary, sounded scary, she wasn’t my Gram anymore and I was afraid.
At her request they brought her home and laid her on the couch, it was here she chose to spend her last few days. We were all in the living room, the whole family. I had fought so hard to not go to her house that day, it was no longer Grams house, it was her house, whoever she was.
I worked up the courage to go and on the way to her door I picked a flower to give to her, she smiled and “thank you” were her dying words. I still don’t know what kind of flower it was, I never wanted to know, to me they have always been Gram’s Flowers.