My grandfather's room was at the end of the hall. The door was open. My mother was inside, sitting in a chair by the bed, holding his hand.
He looked worse than he had the day before. Smaller. The gray cashmere cardigan was gone, replaced by a hospital gown that made him look like a prisoner. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell.
My mother looked up when I walked in. "He's been asking for you."
"I know."
I walked to the bed. My grandfather's eyes opened. They found me. The blue was still there, but dimmer.
"Eleanor," he said. His voice was a whisper. The machines beeped.
"I'm here."
He looked at my mother. "Leave us."
"Dad..."
"Leave."
She stood up. Her face was careful. She walked to the door. She stopped.
"Eleanor," she said, without turning. "Whatever he tells yo
