When I was growing up, my parents went to work, watched TV, and slept. If we interfered with any of that they'd yell. So my grandmother raised me.
On her last day alive, I had some time alone with her. I told her I couldn't wait to tell my children about their great-grandmother. Hospice told us this was likely her last day. My mother kept telling her to "hold on" and "stay with us". I could tell she was trying very hard to do that and it wasn't right. I told her, "You don't have to stay with us. We'll be okay. It's okay to go." Right after that she was gone.
In my grief, the first thought in my head was something I said to her often as a child. I thought, "I want to go with you." Immediately my grandmother said to me loud and clear, "Oh no, you don't! Look at all the things I got to do in my life. (She meant being a mother and grandmother). You go do those same things."