"Did I tell you the story of the train?" She would ask every time, and no matter if we said yes or no she would start telling us again how in Poland, when she was a young girl, she had to take a train by herself and some Polish thugs who would usually pick on a poor, lonely Jewish girl, came on the train but didn’t pick on her cause she made them laugh and told them stories, and they all fell in love with her and gave her a flower. We heard this story at least a hundred thousand times.
And here I am coming to say goodbye to her, a final goodbye, and this lovely, smart woman is sitting in a hospital bed, wearing a baby blue robe, and can’t stop talking about the leaking faucet and the hole in the wall by her bed, that could have roaches coming out of. And my grandpa sits by her and loses h
