My great-grandmother was in the hospital recovering from a bad fall. She'd tripped over things many times before, so we weren't all that worried about her. She was only in the hospital so doctors could monitor her and make sure her frail body didn't make the injury worse.

At 78, Alice was quite a resilient woman. She was full of fire and love for life. Nevertheless, it was recommended that she be moved to a sort of assisted-living hospital, where she could be monitored more closely.

Everyone was pretty surprised that she hadn't been discharged yet. Alice didn't want to be moved (she was quite stubborn), but we convinced her that we were doing would only benefit her.

The facility was pretty nice, and Alice was happy. When we would go and visit her, she'd show us around and tell us about some of the other people living there. It became apparent that most patients in the hospital were dying.

Alice seemed fine, though. No one was worried.

On the Sunday before Easter, my Uncle Eddie had a strange dream. It was set up like a "Welcome Home" party for a soldier or something. The only attendees of the party were long-dead relatives, except for Uncle Eddie, and...

...Alice.

The only thing Eddie ever said in that dream was, "Alice, what are you doing here?"

He immediately woke up with a sick feeling in his stomach. Alice's nurse found her the next morning, a corpse lying peacefully in bed.

I like to think that Alice was visiting Eddie in her last moments because she never had the chance to say goodbye to him.