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In a way, it was comforting to have my grandmother be a little sharp with me from her deathbed. I always thought it was her sharpness that would keep her around. Who could die with that kind of fire coursing through their veins? But whatever burns will also burn up. Maybe it never made sense for anybody to run that hot for so long. Maybe, in her own way, she decided to drop that torch, and let the light fade. Maybe she was ready to go even if I wasn’t ready for her to be gone.
