She didn't know, but as she was talking, I was journaling what was said. I wanted to remember, even though I knew I would never forget.  As I spent much time at Grandma's side in her last few weeks, I was once again reminded that heaven is for real. As she was peaking into paradise, I tried to catch a glimpse of it through her eyes. 

She looked around the room as though she was following something with her eyes. I watched. After some time had passed, I asked her what she could see. "Angels." She told me she was watching the angels. It appeared another caught her eye as her attention slowly returned up above her. She said, "I can't see their faces, but I can see their wings." 

In front of me sat an old end table with a lamp with its shade still wrapped in plastic. In front of her she saw a crowd of people. Looking for her mom she said, "Heaven isn't as far away as you think. It's right here. It's around us." I rested my head on the rail at the side of her bed. She stared. I watched. She could see what I could not. Yet I was with her, by her side. I studied her expressions as heaven became revealed to her. I sang. She was about to go home, her life about to begin. 

She broke the silence as time went by with quickly looking off to the right as though she heard someone calling her. She said, "Yes?" I asked her what she heard, and she quickly asked me if I could hear them calling her name.  She said she was told it was almost time. He was holding onto her, which made it possible for her to let go. She continued to watch what must have been a glorious scene. I only saw dingy white walls, she was peaking into paradise. Her shaky hand slowly but purposefully reached to the sky trying to grasp the wing of an angel. Almost. Each time. Almost.

Pointing to her ear, she told me she could hear music. It was faint, but it was there. "What a lovely sound, as angels gather 'round, saying, 'This is where you belong'...welcome home."

I was reminded of how I felt when I held my newborn babies as they took their first breath. Now, holding her hand, knowing she would soon take her last, I realized the similarities. In these moments, a new life was about to begin. Beautiful.

I glanced at her hand in mine, and thought of the lifetime she has had in the past 98 years. She told me she loved me, and squeezed my hand.

She watched. I sang. We waited. 

Angel wings passed in front of me. She was going home, where she belonged. I was there. This was where I belonged. Her life was about to begin.