I had never seen someone die before six o'clock this afternoon. I can't say I wasn't curious, but now I can say I don't ever want to feel that pain, and helplessness ever again. I sat and watched my great grandmother, my perfect, wonderful, amazing great grandmother die. She was the picture of perfection on the outside. Beautiful and strong. She had her hair dyed every week, she never wanted to show her age with gray. She had manicures, facials, and pedicures once a week. She made amazing matzo ball soup. She was one of the hardest people in the entire world to love. We all some how or any other managed it though. Even me, although I'm just now realizing it. I remember once, I was at a Bar Mitzvah. I had gotten there and laughed, because the room that they had rented for the party was in my Grammi Pearl's apartment building. That day, a lot of mischief happened, including an excursion into a closet *to be discussed at a later date* and loud music. Later that day, my Grandma sandy called my dad to talk to him about how Grammi Pearl had called her and complained about loud music, and the crazy parties people were throwing in this buildling. She didn't smile a lot, but when she did, it was beautiful. She was one of the most beautiful women I think I have ever known. I miss her.