My dear friend Steven just did a beautiful and hear-wrenching post on his journal about his grandmother. She is still alive, but he already said goodbye. There is nothing worse that someone you love being there, physically in front of you, but mentally in a dimension far out of reach. He says:
I called the house a couple weeks ago, while I was in Seattle, and she answered the phone. She didn’t know where anyone was. She was convinced everyone had left her and they were not coming back. I even doubt she knew who she was talking to. She wouldn’t say “I love you” to me after I said it to her. Broken up, I let her go and tried to remember that it wasn’t personal. This isn’t the Grammie I once knew, and that I had already said goodbye. And most importantly, it isn’t her fault. It’s no one’s fault.