"How is she?"

"Stronger. She went outside today."

"How is Mr. Carson?"

"He's got to let her go. She's holding on for him, you know she is."

"Or not. Dr. Clarkson said, she could linger on for weeks... or be gone tomorrow."

"Hopefully she'll be long enough to say goodbye to her sister. She's supposed to arrive today to keep an eye on her, so Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Carson won't have to spend all their time down at the hospital."

"Good thing too. If we were employed by any other family, they would have had the sack weeks ago."

"Well who can blame them? After all the death this house has seen."

"Where will her sister stay?"

"In the Village Inn, I'd suspect. Where else?"

"I donno. I was only asking. I can't take another hysterical, emotional female in this house."

"Everyone deals with grief differently."

"I'm just sayin'."

"How is she?"

"She was throwing up again today, couldn't manage to keep food down."

"Oh no... I thought she was feeling better."

"I don't think she can possibly feel 'better', it all has to be shades of less worse at this point, don't you think?"

"I hate how much she's suffering. I know it's awful, but I wish..."

"I know..."

"Stop workin' so hard, you're going to keel over dead before Mrs. Hughes!"

"You shouldn't say things like that!"

"And you shouldn't be working so hard!"

"Well someone's got to, ain't they? And Mr. Carson and Mrs. Patmore deserve a chance to be with Mrs. Hughes - they're all friends. It's not right to make them work now. And Mrs. Whittaker's only been here a couple months. You can hardly expect her to manage ev'rything! And it's not like we can help Mrs. Hughes. She's taken care of all of us over the years... I never noticed, 'cept when... Anyway, what else can we do? We can't help her at all!"

"Calm down. You're gonna work yourself into a state. Here, sit for a half moment and I'll make you a cuppa."

"How is she?"

"A bit better. She managed to eat some soft foods today."

"Oh good. It's shocking how much weight she's lost."

"That's what the disease does - eats you away."

"Do you think they would care if we brought some pudding or something up to her?"

"I'm sure she'd appreciate the gesture, but you musn't be hurt if she doesn't eat it."

"Of course not. Just something... to remind her we're thinking about her."

"That's a lovely thought."

"How is she?"

"She's refusing her medication. She doesn't want to fight anymore... You should think about if you want to go visit her one more time."

When Mr. Carson brings the final solemn message, eyes glistening, they all file down to the hospital in a teary procession. The Family enter first, with short messages of gratitude for her long and faithful service. Mrs. Bates, Mr. Bates, Mr. Barrow all take their turn. Mr. Carson stands in the hallway, emotional but steady, with handkerchiefs at the ready.

"Is there nothing more they can do? Doctor Clarkson said-"

Mr. Carson cuts Mrs. Bates off gently, "It is her choice. She is ready." As the tears start afresh, he hands her a fresh handkerchief and enfolds her in a hug. "I know it is hard."

They return to the house for a dinner made by a frantic Daisy ordering about the oddly quiet and obedient Ivy, Alfred, and James, leaving Mr. Carson, Mrs. Patmore, and Mrs. Hughes' sister Agnes Gordon keeping vigil.

With this death, there is no Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson to keep calm and hold everyone together. He is still at the hospital, keeping watch over the body until the men from the funeral home come to collect it. Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Bates take over the roles of chief huggers and soothers, sharing tears and hugs, passing out handkerchiefs, and listening to choked out stories and wishes and regrets. Mrs. Whittaker, the new housekeeper who had been taken on several months ago, stays out of the way, doling out cups of tea unobtrusively.

"She told me to take one of her brooches, but I don't want to just go in and take stuff. Not with her sister... or Mr. Carson... I don't want them to think-"

"If she wanted you to have it, they'll understand."

"I guess... I just..."

"Ask Mrs. Patmore to go with you to her room, if you need some support."

"I miss her, John. I really, really miss her."

"I know."

Beryl feels nothing more than a need to sleep. Her eyes are achey with the need for tears, but no more will come. She's said thank you's and you're very kind's over and over and shaken too many hands. She wants nothing more than to lie somewhere and simply not think, not move. Elsie had more strength than any of them, battling the cancer the way she did. The fact that she quit working only 5 weeks before her death... She wishes, more than anything, that they could have become friends sooner, that this would be easier on Mr. Carson, that Elsie had been in less pain in the week leading up to it... She wishes she could sleep. "God bless you, Elsie Hughes. You deserve your rest."

Agnes stares at the casket. Her sister, her older sister, is in there with all her scoldings and teasings and eyerolls. All the memories of their birth mother are gone with her. All those "remember when"s no longer have a source of validation. There is no longer a proper challenger for who could find the best deal. It's all inside that box. "I'm proud of you," she whispers under the prayers."I'm so very, very proud of you. I love you, Elsie. I'm glad you're home now. I'm glad you're not in pain. I love you. I love you so much."

By this point Charles doesn't even bother to try to prevent the tears. He's shed more tears this week than he has in decades. "Be safe," he thinks. "Be safe and be happy until I can see you again."

My grandmother lost her 20 year battle with cancer last week. She lived literally 3 houses down the street from me ever since I can remember, I saw her everyday. If you would like to support those with cancer and their friends and families, I have set up a tribute page to help raise money for the American Cancer Society at tinyurl (dotcom/) HughesAndGma or you can follow the hyperlink on my profile page.

And if you don't want to donate, please hug those you care about and tell them how much you love them.