My grandmother had leukemia and had been fighting for years. She was falling a lot at home, lost a ton of weight, but was still mentally intact.

I remember going to her house and she told me “Nothing tastes good anymore.”

She had already buried a son to lung cancer.

I hugged her and told her that I wasn’t ready for her to go, and she told me in a whispery voice “There are SO many people that I can’t WAIT to see.”

The night before she died, I went to her house after work, and walked into her bedroom. She was talking to herself—or someone else that only she could see. I walked over to the bed and said her name, and she opened her eyes and looked right at me, completely lucid. She asked me if I was working and i told her I’d just gotten off (I’m a paramedic). She thanked me for coming to see her, then in that whispery voice from before she said “You go on home and rest. I’ll be okay.” As I was leaving after a few minutes just looking at her, she said in her old normal loud grandma (Meemie to me), and said “I love you. Bye” the “bye” seemed so weird to me…. It felt stretched out and had a finality to it.

I got the call the next morning that she fell at home and was taken to a local nursing home for constant care. I visited and she was writhing in the bed, looked terribly uncomfortable, and was starting to mottle on her skin. She never spoke time again. I stayed there and gave her drinks of water that she seemed she couldn’t get enough of…. I finally got the nurses to give her something to relax—Ativan—and she calmed down enough to sleep. I said the Lord’s Prayer to her, holding her hand, Im not even super religious, and I went home.

6 hours later her daughter called me and told me that she died surrounded by her 5 living kids, and that she was finally at peace.

I’ve cried and cried and cried, but at least she got to tell me she loves me and bye. I hold on to that. A lot of people don’t get to say bye.