My Life With Irma Levinson

My great grandmother is dying.  She's in the hospital again, and as I understand things, from this point it's a matter of how quickly or slowly it happens, but it's a near-certainty.  I think about it and my heart starts to jump around in my chest like a terrified bird in a heavy cage.  My whole body feels like molten lead.  My vision tunnels out and I feel like I can almost hear her in my head.

I haven't had the chance yet to cry about it.  Well, now I am, as I type this.  I thought I was prepared; we had such a scare a few years ago, when she had a heart attack, but it still hurts as if it wasn't something expected.  It's hard to explain how much I love her, and how much she has always meant to me and always will mean.  Damned if I'm not going to try.