My brother and I loved Grandma, but we used to taunt her. Oh sure, we'd play cards with her---she spoke no English, so we'd play the simple "Battle," or "War"---and we helped her bake cakes. But we'd alternate that with taunting her, raiding her refrigerator when she wasn't looking, taunting her again, removing her towels hanging on the backyard clothesline and hiding them, etc. I was still a young boy when she died. In front of her casket at the funeral home, I knelt to view her body and to pray. A few moments later, a relative seated behind me shifted position on the leather couch, causing a crankling sound which I immediately interpreted as Grandma moving in her casket. I froze in absolute terror! Grandmothers and death are mysterious.
-Old Doc
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