He didn't make it.
I'm not sure why or how he'd miraculously bounced back from the grave earlier in the week, not that it matters now.
I took the 'come now' call at 12:30 am today from a nurse. I stayed with my grandma, who is very frail, and my mom went to the hospital. I stared at the ceiling until 7 am, when I got the final warning text message from my mom. I frantically tried to get my grandma out the door, but as I was finding her socks, I found out it was too late. I had to tell her. Telling someone who's been married for, what, 60 years? That her husband was gone and we'd missed his final moment? That was a killer.
They are napping now. I tried unsuccessfully. There are relatives and friends to tell, funeral arrangements to make. People are calling. People are on their way over. The irony of funeral arranging is that you must do it when you least feel like it. Maybe that's not ironic.
I'm grateful he did not suffer long, and did not suffer at all in the end. I'm fortunate to have your good thoughts. It helps.