“Sure” she answered as she shifted to get more comfortable.  “She’s been around since as long as I can remember.”

“Yeah, since you were born” I said.  “What do you remember?”

“That she was gentle and talked kindly to me.  That she seemed to really like me and was glad to see me when she would visit.”

“And did you notice any changes in her over time?” I asked.

“Sure” she answered “but not in those earlier days- maybe more in the last two or three years.”

“What did you notice?”

“That she moved slower and seemed to have some troubles seeing, more all the time.  A few times I think I might have startled her when I walked up, maybe even scared her a bit and I never meant to do that.”

“Did she act scared?”

“Now that you mention it the last couple times I saw her she did appear scared.  And sad, she seemed very sad” she responded.  I could tell some of this conversation might be starting to bother my girl a bit but I just needed to know.

“How do you know?” I continued.

“Well, I just have a sense for these things, for knowing when people are good or bad, kind or mean, healthy or hurt, happy or sad.  I know when they are and aren’t scared.  And she just seemed scared.  Terrified almost.”

“Of what though?”

“I think it was that she was scared of what was starting to happen to her.  Sometimes it was anger but mostly fear.  Maybe it was that she was scared of the unknown, of what was happening and what was still going to happen.  I think she knew she was fading and couldn’t stop it, any of it.  And more than anything I think she was scared and sad that she was losing the ability to see” she explained, wise as her years may allow.  So perceptive.

“So she was sad?”

“Sure. One son had died and another had surgery for cancer.  She’d lost her husband years and years ago and a couple siblings and also many friends.  The life she had been a part of must have seemed like something in the past, something she would never regain no matter what, and she was, well she was so terrified of, well dying. It was obvious to me.”

“I guess I should have seen it to” I said.  “I knew what was happening- I had seen it when my dad started to fade but I was so far away and things in my own life seemed so much more important.  I didn’t make it back before he passed.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah.  And she had always been good to our family hasn’t she?”

“From what I know and what you’ve told me, yep.”

“She was a surrogate grandma for our boys since they were born.  They called her ‘Granny Peg’ from the time they could first speak” I remembered sadly.

“They did seem to get along very nicely.  And she always had a kind word and hand for me.”

“Sure.  She sure did” I said.

“She did?”

“Yep, she did.  She’s passed away” I suddenly confessed.

“Oh no, that’s so sad to hear.  Did you see her?”

“No, not since the Christmas before last when you saw her too” I said, sadly.

“Why not?”

“I keep asking myself the same question” I answered.  “But like with my dad I just don’t have a good answer.  Maybe I just don’t like death either.”

“Me neither” she said as she got up from her bed slowly and with more than a little effort.  As she began to walk she did so with a limp on her back leg and she seemed to struggle to see the floor so moved along slowly and carefully.

She was aging and we both knew it but we didn’t talk about it.  So was I, I suppose.  I wanted to help her but couldn’t.  I hoped someone one day would help me but realized they couldn’t.  But a simple visit and a kind word might go a long way.

If only I had considered doing the same for Granny Peg.

As my girl limped away, all four legs seemingly giving her problems, she stopped and looked back with her fading eyes and seemed to smile a smile not of happiness but rather a knowing and somewhat sad and resigned smile.

“It’s too bad, I liked her.  She was a nice lady” she said as she moved slowly off.

“Yes she was” I thought to myself, “yes she was.”