My grandmother asked me to help her find her high school sweetheart for one final dance

Rain tapped gently against the hospital window, steady and soft, as though the world outside was trying not to disturb what was happening inside. My grandmother had been lying in that room for weeks, her condition slowly weakening with each passing day.

The doctors had spoken carefully, choosing words that still managed to carry the weight of certainty. There was not much time left, they had said, and we all understood what that meant even when we tried not to say it aloud.