My grandmother passed away tonight.

I feel extraordinarily fortunate that I saw her on Monday, and that she was having a good day when I was there.

I feel extraordinarily fortunate that she died at home, on her terms.

And I feel horrible for being in Austin, TX, 2000 miles away, and not being able to do anything to help.

My grandmother has decided to discontinue her treatment and has entered hospice care. The treatment was, in many ways, worse than the disease itself: robbing her of any quality of life and leaving her miserable. Her prognosis is not good, and the doctor gives her less than six months to live.

As much as this knowledge hurts me, I support her decision. It’s the kind of courage and strength I would expect from her and my grandfather.