Several months ago, I went with my wife to visit her great-grandparents, who were in their 90's. Her great grandfather, a sharp-as-a-tack inventor who was still able to do one arm pushups, had been taking care of his ailing wife for years -- and she was a fighter. After one of her strokes, she woke in a hospital bed and was asked by a nurse "How do you feel?" Without missing a beat, she shot back: "Mostly with my hands." But now she was failing fast, with her dementia only giving her a few, ocassional shining moments of clarity. One of those moments came during our visit. She would not stop holding my wife's hand, she would not stop holding her husband's hand, and she would not stop telling us all how happy she was take we were married. Before we left, she sang "Danny Boy" with my wife, a song she used to sing to her as a child. She remembered every word.

My wife's great grandmother died in March.