My grandfather is napping, my mother on the porch making calls to family friends.
I write in a full notebook meant to have been emptied with my grandmother's thoughts. It was to allow my grandmother to write the things she couldn't say. She wrote on all of two pages. The first was the call list my mother is currently occupied with. The second simply says what three rings her granddaughters are to receive. She leaves me with her wedding ring, but no last words. I imagine she figured she didn't need to keep a journal. See, words in my family aren't valued, only actions.
My only hope is that she knew that her actions were enough.