Chapter 67

These were my grandmother’s last words: “I have wasted my life.”

“Thanks a lot,” said my mother, who tended to make everything about her.

I said, “What do you mean, Grandma?”

I was interested, as I hoped to learn from her mistakes. I may even have gotten pen and paper ready.

(Perhaps my mother and I were more alike than we realized.)

“Of course you haven’t, Mum,” said Auntie Pat.

But my grandmother just sighed and fiddled irritably with the button on the blue brunch coat I’d bought her for her last birthday. She would really have preferred a paler blue but she supposed it would do.

Grandma never said another word. She died ten days later.

You never know what your last words are going to be, so try to choose them all wisely.