I woke up this morning believing that my grandmother had died during the night.  I have spent all day waiting for the second email that tells me she's gone.  I get nervous away from my phone, away from my computer.  I had dinner with friends, and I only once asked to borrow someone's phone to check my email.  Instead of checking again and again, I wrung my hands, my breath shallow and anxious, I couldn't stand the thought that the message had come but I didn't know it yet.

I can't stand that there will be time in between my grandmother dying and my knowing it, that for a moment or an hour I will think that I live in a world where she is alive, and I will be wrong. 

And now, it is dark, and she is still alive, I think, and I wonder if instead of worrying and waiting I should have gotten on a plane, I could be there now, only I didn't because I thought it was too late.  And maybe it is now, but maybe it wasn't this morning.