It was while mom and I were on our way to visit grandma last evening that I got a text from dad: the hospice nurse had called him, but didn't leave a message. I suppose we all knew what it could mean, though I told myself that grandma's condition had probably simply worsened.
But when we arrived and someone greeted us by telling us how sorry she was, I knew I'd been wrong.
Grandma passed at 6:45pm, about an hour before mom and I arrived to see her. When we looked in on her she had a Santa Clause blanket I'd never seen before over her, the white flowers the chaplain had left that morning were still by her bed, and there was restful music playing on her radio. Maybe it was classical...I actually can't remember. I think it's the first time I've heard the radio playing in her room there.
If this post seems detached, it's because I'm still in the period of time where it hasn't hit me yet that she's gone. I guess I'm still processing things.