When I finally reached the hospital, my grandma had already lost consciousness. As soon as I saw her, I could tell she wouldn’t wake up again. We all stood around and waited, and hoped it wouldn’t take too long. I sat on the bed and held her hand. Thankfully, it only took an hour or so. Eventually, the nurse came in and checked her pulse and told us she was dead.
Except she wasn’t. Not exactly. The nurse was right – her heart had stopped – but from the way she held my hand, I could tell she was still there. I didn’t say anything. I knew she’d be gone soon enough. For a few more minutes I kept her company, stroking her hand while everyone else fussed around us. It was an extraordinary sensation, one of the oddest moments of my life. And then something in her shifted, and I knew she’d left the room.
I’ve always believed this tale was true, but I never had anything to back it up.
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