Come on now child, we're gonna go for a ride

On June 14th, 2007, sometime in the afternoon, Granny died. At 9:15 pm that evening, my father called to tell me. I got off the train a stop early so I could call him back and we chatted for close to fifteen minutes. He told me she’d been in hospice care, they knew it would happen soon, it was only a matter of time, and that she died of a respiratory failure. Even while typing that word, I had a time spelling it, I kept hearing how he said it, with his relatively thick southern accent: “RES-patory”.
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