Grandma hated being alone there. Grandpa tried to visit as often as he could, but it was hard for him to go. So my parents took it in shifts. One would go down for the day while the other would stay home. The next day they'd switch. And they did this for months. Did I mention Saskatoon is two hours away from home? If Mormons could be canonized, I'd fight to have Mum and Dad be first on the list.

On August 4, I brought Benton home from EFY. Originally my mom and I were just going to meet halfway to exchange the goods child, but our family spontaneously booked a hotel room and we all met up in Saskatoon instead. The next day we went up to the hospital. 

The kids had all seen grandma before this trip, so I went in alone with Mum and Dad. It took everything in me not to cry. During my previous hospital visit, Grandma had been sick, but for the most part still seemed normal. She had chuckled and hugged me and we even played a practical joke on the nurse by hiding her most hated meds in the cupboard full of bedpans. This trip was totally different. She had lost an enormous amount of weight. Her orange hair that she always kept dyed and permed was a sickly grey and smushed to the side. Her hands and feet were swollen. Her face seemed sunken and pale. She was too weak to move, even just to move the blankets around. Once stubborn and loud, she barely spoke louder than a whisper. 

"Look who we brought!" my dad said in his fake cheery voice. I took my cue from him. "Hi Grandma!"

She turned her head, just barely, and said, "You came... to sing... me a song..."

I looked at Momma Froc, who nodded. Dad whispered, "She's been waiting weeks for you to come and sing to her..."

"Uh huh!" I fake smiled at grandma, hoping that she'd forget. Mom DID tell me after all that her drugs made her say crazy things and forget a lot. Luckily, I was spared for awhile. Mom and Dad had some trivial things to discuss, and then the nurse came in. Hallelujah for nurses. Just when I thought I had weasled my way out of an awkward hospital concert, Grandma turned to me again. "You get ready." she ordered in her old bossy way. I looked around the room at the tubes, and lotion, and the CD player on her nightstand with two CDs beside it. One was a disc of Southern gospel hits. The other was a CD with five songs I had recorded on my computer and sent to her in mail. The nurse left.

"I'm ready now."

"What do you want me to sing?"

"Anything."

I racked my brain for music she'd recognize. Years of church hymns, songs I'd sung at recitals and concerts she'd attended, older music, and I couldn't think of squat. Suddenly, the song Edelweiss popped into my head. I sang it to her, shakily, and holding back tears. She seemed satisfied. 

"That was nice. I've always... liked that song."

"Me too."

"Sing another."

So I did. Then she wanted another. I asked her what she wanted. 

"You're off the hook now. Do you know... By the Sea?"

"By the Sea? Do you know some of the lyrics?"

"By the Sea... By the Sea... "

Mom piped in. 

"I know that one! By the sea, By the sea, By the beautiful sea... Is that the one?"

"Yeah... Mom and Dad... used to sing it all the time... Do you know it?"

I felt so awful. "I'm sorry but I don't. I could learn it for you though!"

Grandma looked at me sadly. "Yes. You'll have to learn it... For the next time...."

Though I didn't realize it until about two weeks ago, my Grandma knew then that there wouldn't be a next time. At least not here.