I remember the dreams distinctly. I walked into my Grandmother’s room and she said, “You know that I am ready to die.” It was a dream that happened more than once. She had rheumetoid arthritis and was often in terrible pain. They tried an early type of knee surgery that failed and left her unable to move her knees forcing her to walk on crutches. That’s all I remember her being on all my life up till the year she died. As she neared the end she took cortisone injections against her doctor’s warnings that it would shorten her life. She said they were quality of life over quantity. As she aged more she refused to eat. Then one day she asked for sandwhiches and said, “That should do it.” She took an overdose of pills while we were eating in the dining room and died a few days later in the hospital. During those days she repeatedly threatened to complete the job. I at first supported her decision. I then later recanted. Now I feel arthritis in my knees and feel much pain daily. And I hear my Grandmother’s laughter.
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