As of this morning, my grandmother's suffering is over.

I'm glad, really, because I know she hated being sick and in pain, but I can't help being really sad. She was more of a mother to me than anyone ever was, and I was her little girl who made her so proud. I think back and remember all the things we did together, and everything she taught me, and everything she wanted for me, and all can do is cry. Women like her should be immortal. They have so much to offer the world, and there's nothing they can't do. But even people like her can't live forever. It's so unfair.

If I could be 3 again, and be with Daddy and Mom Mom and Pop again, I'd do it in a second. But I can't, no matter how much I want to. Everyone has to grow up and die eventually. But if you're like Mom Mom, at least you get to do it voluntarily, with no regrets or fear.

Not too long ago she told Daddy everything would be alright. I hope she was right. I just have to keep believing that she was. And I'll look back and remember the songs she'd sing and the stories she'd tell, and someday I'll sing them and tell them to my own children, in my own house, somewhere.

Yes, everything will be alright.

"Dreaming of mercy, in your Daddy's arms again..." -Peter Gabriel

"Just Molly and me, and baby makes three, we're happy in my blue heaven." -something Mom Mom used to sing

"Do a little dance!"

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