I wrote this in memory of my Great Aunt Ruth. Ranger, Stephanie, and Grandma Mazur, belong to Janet. The mistakes are solely mine.

"Promise me, Stephanie," Grandma Mazur said, freaking me out a little with how watery and serious her blue eyes are, "that if I ever get like that, you'll find me one of them old fogey homes that has a few cute male nurses to tie my shoes for me. You ain't wasting your life trying to take care of me."

Wasting my life wouldn't be what I'd call helping her, since she's been the only member of my family that I've always known I could count on. She can be a handful, but I wouldn't change her or any of the adventures we've had together. Well ... I might wanna change the funeral home one, but that did end better for us than the building itself, so I can't complain too much.

"You're going to outlive us all, Grandma. You don't have to worry about me."

She isn't in the mood to brush this off. "Promise me."

"Alright ... I'll do whatever you want," I swore to her, but I admit ... my fingers were crossed where I had them hiding inside my Rangeman jacket.

I've heard some real horror stories through Grandma's friends about the places she's talking about shipping her off to; missed or messed up medication, neglect of patients or the cleanliness of their living spaces, sexual harassment or abuse between staff and patients or patient-on-patient crime, 'accidental' deaths through medical negligence or lack of seeing patients as actual people anymore, 'misplaced' money, stolen personal items ... no friggin' way. If God forbid I ever have to think about this type of situation in relation to Grandma, and I can't handle it on my own, I'll beg, borrow, or steal, to get her the kind of care she deserves. Of course, I don't have to humiliate myself or commit a crime to do that, Ranger will just snap his fingers and make whatever she and I need happen.

I agreed to drive Grandma to the hospital so she could check on her Bingo Buddy Ruth, who is currently in the ICU fighting just for the opportunity to be sent somewhere like Grandma suggested going. We'd spoken to her son for a few minutes and learned that she had been brought to the hospital yesterday because they were afraid she'd had a stroke. She was seen and cleared to go home only to have him discover her completely unresponsive in her bed when he'd gone to see how she was feeling. This time they said she'd had a heart attack.

If that wasn't awful enough, we were also told that her Dementia has steadily gotten worse over the last few months, and she's now paralyzed on her right side and can only move her toes when asked to. It was physically painful and emotionally wrenching knowing she was trying to speak, but nothing could come out.

What got me choking up, is how strongly her son and daughter-in-law are clinging to the fact that although she can't move or speak, through a certain eye movement they believe she can still recognize who's in the room with her. But to me, this is a cruel end to the life of a woman who did everything she could not to ever be a burden on anyone. She'd happily help out others, but got really uncomfortable whenever anybody tried to do something nice for her.

I offered to drive Ruth and Grandma to Bingo and back one time and I received a thank you card in the mail with three handwritten paragraphs inside it, thanking me for going out of my way, which was really only ten minutes out of my day. In one conversation I'd had with her last year, she'd shared that she wasn't afraid of dying because first off and I quote ... "I'm old already" but more seriously ... she'd get to be back with the love of her life.

Her husband died decades ago, but you still got chills whenever she referred to him as 'Her Freddie'. I've finally been calling Carlos Manoso 'My Ranger' out loud ... and now I know I'll never stop doing it. If you wanted a sincere and honest example of what 'Burg hospitality' should be, she's it. She'd have an entire buffet-sized table full of food, prepared and carefully arranged, while guests were still deciding what to wear to come over, even if they were only family members popping in for a few minutes.

What's mind-blowing to me is she never called anyone names. She even apologized for saying her grandson's ex-wife is a bitch when I thought she was being kind in choosing that word over the others that immediately came to my mind. She didn't believe in gossip unless it would stop someone's destructive behavior, or help someone see a destructive relationship a little more clearly. And she never asked for anything. On the rare occasions she did, the person who helped her was automatically added to her Christmas card list.

I felt doubly bad for Ruth's son because he'd said through a clenched jaw and barely held back tears, that he promised his father to always take care of her, but this isn't something he and his wife can handle themselves anymore. Her care required more than they can do, and he's beating himself up for not being able to provide a better solution than a rehabilitation facility.

"I don't feel old," Grandma said almost to herself, after a few minutes of silence, "but days like this remind me that I am."

"Me, too," I said, putting an arm around her scrawny shoulders and leading her to a quieter corner of the hospital near the elevator. "I've joked about eating a bullet before I reach the point Ruth's at now, but I never really thought about what that would look or feel like. It has to be torture to see and hear everything going on around you, but not be able to participate in what's going on. Jesus ... I used to go nuts every time I believed Morelli was withholding info on a case involving me. My head would've exploded if I hadn't been able to take a swing at him while calling him every curse word I know and some I made up."

"After your Grandpa Harry died, death was something I couldn't ignore anymore, but this kind of ending ... being alive but unable to live after ninety-something years, ain't right. You hear all the time that someone you know died, but the details aren't important by the time you hit the funeral parlor, so I never pictured any of us in a hospital like this. It's bad to say, but I was happier being ignorant."

"It's not bad," I assured her. "It's normal. No one wants to suffer or slowly waste away."

"Which is what's going to happen to Ruth. If she makes it to a 'rehabilitation' place, she's gonna just give up. I knew if your Grandfather needed more than he had at home, he would've died wherever I put him just to get himself out of the place. I see that heart attack as a blessing for him in a way."

I'm not willing to go that far, though I can understand her point. Just the shine coming off the white and beige industrial floor tiles, the supposed-to-instill-calm hint of color on the walls, and that unmistakable sterile smell permeating the rooms, that's even stronger in the hallway we're in now, had me wanting to run out of here. I can face sudden death way easier than the possibility of a long, drawn-out one.

"Now that's just what the doctor ordered," Grandma said, looking at something over my shoulder, or more like at someone.

My neck tingle gave him away. Ranger's arms came around me before I could even ask what he was doing here.

"You sounded upset when you texted that you were about to leave," he explained, when I tipped my head to see his face.

"How can someone sound upset in a text? I don't even use emojis."

"I know when you're happy, in danger, or trying not to cry," he said, before kissing me and then giving Grandma a one-armed hug.

"You're like a hot Santa Claus," she said, trying not to let him see how shaken she still is. "I bet my patooty that you also know when she's been naughty and nice."

"Those, too," he agreed. "How is your friend?"

She shrugged. "Ruth's alive. That's better than the alternative. Though she'd hate every minute of this, not being able to do anything and having to rely on everybody to keep her going."

She gave me a look before she continued to speak to Ranger.

"I know Stephanie made a fake promise to me, so I'm goin' over her head here. I don't want Helen callin' the shots if I ever end up like Ruth, but I know my granddaughters will insist on trying to do everything they can for me even if it wears them out. I don't want that. Valerie has my great-granddaughters and Kloughn to take care of and Stephanie has you. I finally get to see them both happy and I'm not gonna be the reason they aren't anymore. Stephanie always takes on more than she should so you make sure she finds a place for me instead of trying to be Wonder Woman and doing everything herself while her mother drives her batty by adding in her two cents every twenty minutes."

I'm already stupidly in love with Ranger, but he surpassed my already off-the-charts opinion of - and feelings for - him.

"I'm with Stephanie," he told Grandma. "We wouldn't trust just anyone with you."

Just as he'd wanted ... she blushed. She also playfully swatted the arm he had around me like she was back in school and the cutest boy in class suddenly started flirting with her. I know I'd be swooning if his arm and body weren't supporting me ... and he isn't even naked or really putting any effort into charming us. He's just answering honestly.

When he and I first began to see more of, and learn more about, each other, he heard all the stories about how I ran away from home and straight to her. And he listened to every recount of the blanket tents, cookies, and 'I understand' noises, Grandma's made for me over the years. Just last week she called because she'd baked a batch of my favorite chocolate chip walnut cookies because she'd heard from someone at the deli that I'd had a rough day capturing a particularly jerky skip. Ranger not only takes care of those he loves, he also looks out for the ones who kept his people fighting until they eventually got to him or his company so he could take over protecting them.

"Aren't you the one?" She said, smiling and obviously feeling loads better with him here.

I completely understand that feeling.

"How about I take you ladies out to lunch?" He suggested. "You're free to choose the restaurant, but I'm paying regardless."

"Really?" I asked him. "You told me at breakfast that you're going with Tank to get an FTA at three."

"Bobby's going in my place. If you've taught me anything, it's that there are far more important things to take care of than business."

"It looks like that's us today," Grandma Mazur said.

"Stephanie and anyone she cares about are a priority every day, not just when you're having a bad one."

"I have had better days, but I'm suddenly feeling more optimistic about this one. If we hit that Mediterranean place over in Ewing, we can have a Santorini Sunrise for Ruth. She ordered herself one of those whenever we could get someone to schlep our bony butts over there."

"I'm in," I said. "I can drink for - and in honor of - Ruth."

"You get one sip, Babe. That's it."

"Sorry, this hospital visit requires at least two gulps," I stated.

He nodded and offered us each an arm. I couldn't stop the twinge of guilt I felt for being able to walk out of here when not everyone will, but this visit served as a wake-up call as well as a reminder to enjoy any time I get to spend with Grandma while I'm lucky enough to still have her here with me.

We didn't know it at the time, but Ruth would only live a few hours after being moved from ICU into hospice care ... 'rehabilitation' quickly proving to no longer be an option. If I'd been able to see into our immediate future, I would've had Grandma Mazur promise, in writing, to move into the Rangeman building while she had been happily - and a little drunkenly - toasting Ruth, instead of waiting and now trying to find a way of bringing it up after having to say a final goodbye to her friend.