And now for the story of Mom Murphy’s last day…..so happy, so sad, so mysterious… so fitting.  A cold, chilly winter day in December brought my Mom, myself and two of my children,  Susan and baby Michael to my Grandmother’s house for this special event.  We were told that the doctor expected Mom Murphy not to live through the day.  As  I approached my grandmother’s bedside, which by the way was now situated in what used to be her dining room [as she became unable to walk upstairs, she was 93 years old and becoming frail] her children created a new bedroom on the first floor of her home, I touched her hand and whispered “hi Mom”.  Her eyes were gently closed, her breathing was indeed faint.  The room was dark.  Now, my Grandmother had a collection of dolls that were of the newborn variety and she always arranged them on her bed.  Even into her 90’s she enjoyed looking at those dolls.  Part of her joy was in the holding of newborn and young infants, much like our own joy over the years.  Since she had “grown up” children now, the great grandchildren were the likely candidates for the cuddling.  My Mom told me to take my son, Michael over to my Grandmother.  He was just four months old.  He was sleeping in my arms, wrapped up snuggly in a warm blanket, when my Mom asked me to do this.  I kissed him on the forehead.  He stayed asleep.  I carefully laid him into my Grandmother’s arms.  She held him closely, the best that she could, as weak as she was.  It was a beautiful sight to see this aged and accomplished woman gently hold this new child.  The breath sounds were so peaceful.  Michael was the last infant that “Katie” held in her experienced arms.  I reached over and took him again into my own arms.  My Mom dropped a few tears onto the blanket as she watched.  She looked at me and said, I cannot watch Mom take her last breaths, would you stay by her?  I nodded yes.  I stayed.  Susan, my little girl who was then eight years old, held Mom Murphy’s hand and then went to the solarium to look at plants.  The doctor came.  He listened to the sounds.  My Grandmother died.   December 23, 1981.