"Where the hell is the holy water?"
That's one of the funnier phrases that came out in the past few days. My dear, dear 98-year-old grandmother is dying. Old age, recent dementia, and a painful hip fracture (I think it's the fourth one) conspired to being about her demise. So we watch, and wait, and she breathes. Then pauses. Then breathes.
So many moments of sadness and beauty, fear and joy. I will blog more later. Thank you for prayers.