Why won't the last grain fall?

I'm speaking specifically about the grain of sand in the proverbial hourglass that belongs to my Grandma Pierce who is currently in a coma after suffering a heart attack and stroke a couple days ago.

Grandma has not had the greatest of years in the past couple. She is nearing 90 years old and essentially gave up on taking care of herself necessitating putting her in assisted living. But when she became violent with the nurses she had to be moved to the most depressing of rest homes. But, really, are there any rest homes that aren't depressing? Anyhow she just sits/lays there in the rest home, day in and day out, waiting for someone to come visit and crying, justifiably so, when visitors have to leave. Her memory is shot so sometimes she doesn't recall the visit anyway. And she has been without Grandpa for almost 18 years...it's time for her to leave.

Yet, she keeps hanging on for some reason and it's been really difficult to function normally knowing that she is in the state she is in and that is, being physically here, but that's it. Right now I feel it's futile to go see her (she does live a little over 120 miles away) because she may not know that I'm even there. Not to mention I was there in the room when my Grandma Slack passed and I do not wish to have the experience again.

Little things are setting off my tears, like a simple song on the radio, someone asking me how I am or how she is, or just some random thought of her.

Grandma and I have a very close relationship. I lived with her for about a year when I went to college and got to know her very well. She isn't the easiest person to get along with, but she still had great moments, and I love her. She was always very kind and nice to me, even when we would have arguments. But I think that's why we got along so good, is that we could argue but knew that we still loved each other.

Grandma also played a very special part in my mission. She wrote quite often and there was one day where she provided great comfort. I was horribly ill with a high fever and a headache that I thought was going to destroy me. In fact, I was in and out of consciousness all day. When I finally came to in the evening I was still feeling bad and couldn't get out of bed. I was quite homesick and was wishing I could speak to someone in my family. Nobody in my family had my phone number because on the mission you're only to communicate through letters and speak to your family on Mother's Day and Christmas. While I was laying in bed trying to rest the phone rang and my companion answered it. I was quite shocked when I heard him say, "No ma'am, you've reached the wrong number. There is no Pamela Reddington here." Pamela is my cousin from the Pierce side who at the time was living in a neighboring state. I immediately told him to hand me the phone and when I asked who was calling, it was Grandma Pierce! She was quite surprised to have reached me, but no more surprised than I was! I told her I was so glad she called, even if it was by mistake, and we chatted awhile and it made me feel much better.

I hate to think of her in the position she's in now and wish that God would just release her from her body. She's told me countless times she's ready to move on, so why doesn't it happen?