I got there on time. I GOT THERE ON TIME. I believe my grandmother recognized me. She has dementia, or so my mother is saying, but she saw me and focused on me and started crying. And then she said goodbye twice. Actual clear words that cut me. We were saying goodbye to each other. It might've been the last time I saw her alive. And I stroked her forehead. She never let me touch her when I was a child (nor did I particularly want to—I was afraid of her), and she never touched me except to smack me or hit me on the back of my head or shove me. She never hugged me, never kissed me. But when I stroked her forehead and talked to her, she suddenly started laughing. It didn't sound crazy. It sounded happy. She was happy. I believe she was happy, like a child.