Goodbye Mimi, I love you

My grandmother is about to die. She has been in the hospital for a few days now. At first there seemed to be hope. But now, the time is here. I am waiting for the phone call. I was able to tell her goodbye, but I still feel like I need to be there with her. I want to be holding her hand. I don't want bring Finley there and Kevin has the flu so I can't stay with her for as long as I would like. She is in a coma and hooked up to machines and has 7 bags of fluids being pumped into her body. She has an oxygen mask over her face and is breathing very heavily and fast. Her hands are puffy and cold. The other night, her first night in the hospital, I told her the doctors were going to make her feel better. She couldn't respond verbally but her face seemed pained, her eyes were crying, but there were no tears since she was so dehydrated. I could tell that this time was different. She no longer had the will to live. She was through fighting. I don't blame her. For the past three years she has shocked and amazed her doctors with her numerous recoveries. She had a gangrene infected gallbladder and several feet of intestines removed, she had a stint placed in her aorta to repair an aneurysm, she persevered through broken ribs and a broken femur after falling (separate times.) She had dementia or Alzheimer's that would come and go. Sometimes she was as "sharp as a tack" (one of her terms), but then times she would say she had to go to the office, airport, doctor... she always had somewhere to go. She wanted to finish sewing curtains (that she never started.) She couldn't play Connect Four, each time I had to show her where to put her piece, and she couldn't grasp the point of the game. Once, she was sitting at her little table wearing sunglasses and scribbling on a piece of paper. I asked her what she was doing and she said she was making her shopping list. I'm not completely sure that she knew who I was, since she always had a big smile, a kiss, and an "I love you" for anyone that entered her house.

Although she couldn't move, she followed me with her eyes that first night in the hospital. She wouldn't respond when you asked her a question, but she was able to say "I love you", and give me a little smile. After that, she closed her eyes and shortly after, went into the coma

I just got the phone call. Mimi just passed away. My dad and grandfather were there with her.