This is an absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful story.  If it doesn’t make you cry, it will at least make the tears well up in your eyes. I would include some of it here in a blockquote, but I couldn’t bear to lift any piece of it on its own.

As I read, I was reminded of my time in late November, at my grandmother’s bedside in the hospital and in the hospice.  Nana was unable to really respond to us, but she heard us and I believe she could understand some of what we were talking about.  When the conversation became agitated, because my sister got screwed over by the airline, Nana became restless and made sounds of pain.  But when we sat around sharing memories and family stories, laughing about Nana’s foibles and our own, she was peaceful.  Her brow would un-furrow, and she would lie still and quiet.

Not only do people talk about family when they are dying, but that’s what the people around them talk about.  Our lives are made up of stories, and our relationships are made up of shared stories.  When you peel away all the trappings of our lives, that’s what we have left: our selves, our families, our stories.  This is how we know just the slightest bit about God’s love, God’s forgiveness, God’s grace.

Go read the story.  You’ll be glad you did.