The Goddess of Death came to claim me. Her hands were gentle as she lifted me from my bed and carried me to the door. I was old, tired, and in pain. Then when my eyes opened again, I was young, in a cradle, and I remember her words whispered. "You died a person who believed in kindness. Hold that in your heart, for I wish you to teach it to others." -- BKF
Grace had spent a life doing little things for everyone around her, asking little but for the things she could not do herself. As time pulled her body apart around her, she could do less, and asked more. Never once begrudging anyone for not having the time or the energy.
Those that took advantage of her never repaid her kindness. That was expected. Those who had needed her in one way or another, remembered. They helped even when she was only capable of sitting up in her bed.
Then time, the ultimate destroyer, stopped her heart.
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