“Grandma, why does great-grandmother’s head shake?”
“She’s just old.”
“Why doesn’t your head shake?”
“I’m not that old yet.”
I wondered if my head was going to shake when I got old. That’s mostly what I remember about her. That, and some whiskers she had that would scratch my face when I kissed her.
I remember crying when she died. She was my first death. And it was then that I knew things had changed.