Blair Bathory

No child wants to hear their grandma talking about death, their death. Barbara already wondered what she would do if her grandma ever left her. She was her playmate, her historian, her model for proper etiquette, her confidant. She was the moon, the stars, the sun, and the clouds. Death wouldn't dare lay a hand on her grandma's silver gray hair, not as long as she could help it.

No child wants to hear their grandma talking about death, their death. Barbara already wondered what she would do if her grandma ever left her. She was her playmate, her historian, her model for proper etiquette, her confidant. She was the moon, the stars, the sun, and the clouds. Death wouldn't dare lay a hand on her grandma's silver gray hair, not as long as she could help it.

Barbara tried to reassure the 91-year-old woman she would live forever, that she would be there to see her great-grandchildren. Addie Mae responded with a sincerity that chilled Barbara's spine with the implications even then. I'll see your children, all right. I'll pick out nice ones and send them to you with a kiss.

Barbara tried to reassure the 91-year-old woman she would live forever, that she would be there to see her great-grandchildren. Addie Mae responded with a sincerity that chilled Barbara's spine with the implications even then. I'll see your children, all right. I'll pick out nice ones and send them to you with a kiss.

Barbara tried to reassure the 91-year-old woman she would live forever, that she would be there to see her great-grandchildren. Addie Mae responded with a sincerity that chilled Barbara's spine with the implications even then. I'll see your children, all right. I'll pick out nice ones and send them to you with a kiss.

That thought always made her film warm inside, even after her grandma's death a year and a half later. Until that day. Barbara was watching television the first time she saw them. Her stories had just gone to commercial, and she was getting up to pour some more coffee, muttering about why Lorraine would ever give Peter another chance.

That thought always made her film warm inside, even after her grandma's death a year and a half later. Until that day. Barbara was watching television the first time she saw them. Her stories had just gone to commercial, and she was getting up to pour some more coffee, muttering about why Lorraine would ever give Peter another chance.

That thought always made her film warm inside, even after her grandma's death a year and a half later. Until that day. Barbara was watching television the first time she saw them. Her stories had just gone to commercial, and she was getting up to pour some more coffee, muttering about why Lorraine would ever give Peter another chance.

Barbara stood up to trudge to the kitchen when they caught her eye. She lived alone, her daughter and grandson more than an hour away, so no one heard her when she gasped, nor saw her hand flutter to her chest. Her body stood rigid, straight as a board. The shadows were wide and oddly shaped, the inkblots spreading across white paper.

Barbara stood up to trudge to the kitchen when they caught her eye. She lived alone, her daughter and grandson more than an hour away, so no one heard her when she gasped, nor saw her hand flutter to her chest. Her body stood rigid, straight as a board. The shadows were wide and oddly shaped, the inkblots spreading across white paper.

Barbara stood up to trudge to the kitchen when they caught her eye. She lived alone, her daughter and grandson more than an hour away, so no one heard her when she gasped, nor saw her hand flutter to her chest. Her body stood rigid, straight as a board. The shadows were wide and oddly shaped, the inkblots spreading across white paper.

They were there, just like her grandmother told her they would be. Dressed in their Sunday best, Gillian and Jonathan made their way up the steps to the church. The place was full of people who had known Barbara throughout her life. Most of them were in their 90s, like Barbara had been. Wheelchairs and walkers cluttered the pews and aisleways. Sniffles and muted cries filled the room.

They were there, just like her grandmother told her they would be. Dressed in their Sunday best, Gillian and Jonathan made their way up the steps to the church. The place was full of people who had known Barbara throughout her life. Most of them were in their 90s, like Barbara had been. Wheelchairs and walkers cluttered the pews and aisleways. Sniffles and muted cries filled the room.

They were there, just like her grandmother told her they would be. Dressed in their Sunday best, Gillian and Jonathan made their way up the steps to the church. The place was full of people who had known Barbara throughout her life. Most of them were in their 90s, like Barbara had been. Wheelchairs and walkers cluttered the pews and aisleways. Sniffles and muted cries filled the room.

The director from the center came and spoke a few words over the body. She talked about how pleasant Barbara had been and how she was a joy to have around. Everyone nodded and sobbed. A couple of people said amen. Others shouted hallelujah from behind their handkerchiefs. Gillian dabbed at her eyes as she looked on, nodding at the appropriate times, bowing when asked. But Jonathan didn't.

The director from the center came and spoke a few words over the body. She talked about how pleasant Barbara had been and how she was a joy to have around. Everyone nodded and sobbed. A couple of people said amen. Others shouted hallelujah from behind their handkerchiefs. Gillian dabbed at her eyes as she looked on, nodding at the appropriate times, bowing when asked. But Jonathan didn't.

The director from the center came and spoke a few words over the body. She talked about how pleasant Barbara had been and how she was a joy to have around. Everyone nodded and sobbed. A couple of people said amen. Others shouted hallelujah from behind their handkerchiefs. Gillian dabbed at her eyes as she looked on, nodding at the appropriate times, bowing when asked. But Jonathan didn't.

He stared at Barbara, at her face unnaturally frozen and molded into a look of contentment he had never seen her strike. Still and solid looking, like rock beneath the cover of clothing, at her hands drawn flat and forced to intertwine with one another. She didn't look real. She didn't look right.

He stared at Barbara, at her face unnaturally frozen and molded into a look of contentment he had never seen her strike. Still and solid looking, like rock beneath the cover of clothing, at her hands drawn flat and forced to intertwine with one another. She didn't look real. She didn't look right.

He stared at Barbara, at her face unnaturally frozen and molded into a look of contentment he had never seen her strike. Still and solid looking, like rock beneath the cover of clothing, at her hands drawn flat and forced to intertwine with one another. She didn't look real. She didn't look right.