My beloved grandma died this afternoon, a few days before she would have turned 76.

I wasn't with her but my mom and sister were. I had spent the night at the hospital. Those were rewarding hours. Just being with her, stroking her hand and allowing her to sleep comfortably. The last (audible) word my grandma said was my name, Anne, last night. She was alert and bright until her final day. Now, her pain is over. It's what she wanted and God took her home today.

We are taking her with us to Munich to lay her to rest close to our new home. I had the chance to see her one more time after her death and the first thing I thought of when I saw her tiny, battered but peaceful body lying there was E.T. when he was dying. She looked like him. I dunno. It comforts me in a weird way. She was the best grandmother in the world and I am not just saying that. We all loved her dearly. Pass auf dich auf, Oma.