My grandma is dying. I went to see her this afternoon, and it's probably the last time. She's in renal failure, and they're pretty much just making her comfortable.

I don't remember my grandma as anything but old. She was almost seventy when I was born, and always been frail, but there was always warmth in her eyes that let you know there was a kind, generous woman in there. We always got speariment gum at grandma's house, and the scent of speariment always reminds me of her.

She's in a coma now, and her breathing is slow and rattles as she exhales. She was to turn 95 this year, and it seems to lift a little of the sadness that she was able to live so long so well.