Summary: The sweetest woman in the world is dying. As I write this, she’s lying in her bed in a nursing home 45 miles north of Montreal. Her family, including my wife, is beside her, waiting for her to die. She’s not eating, and she can’t hear or speak. But she can see, and she feebly waves her hand when a family member comes into the room. She is not going to get better, and the end will come any day now. She’s my mother-in-law, and she’s 95 years old.
