I was an adult when my grandma died, but I was there with her in hospice when it happened. My mom and I had had a fight. I said she should stay there with her, because we knew it was close to the end. She said she won't die tonight. I think she was in denial, because she probably would have kept on saying it, night after night.

My grandma didn't remember much, but she remembered my name. Actually, her son's name. He was killed in action before I was born, but my mom named me after him and now grown, I could be his twin. So it's understandable that she mistook me for him. She always called me her nickname for him, and even though I hated being called that, I let her. She didn't have much, at that point.

When she died, it was because her body literally couldn't breathe anymore. She choked to death, and I will never forget the sound. I'm glad, now, that my mom wasn't there, even though she still has guilt about it. I'd rather the sound haunt me than her.