The words hauntingly beautiful came to mind recently and I was reminded of the time my husbands paternal grandmother was in the hospital, prior to her passing. Her children and grandchildren had decided to take turns staying with her, so she wouldn’t be alone when her time came. The night my husband stayed with his grandmother, he took our youngest daughter (she was 14 at the time) to the hospital with him. She took her guitar along, as she wanted to be able to play for her GG (great grandmother) one last time. Our daughter sang softly, strong with emotion, as she played at different times throughout the night. The nurses working the nightshift were all moved to tears and told my husband how “hauntingly beautiful” it was to hear her sing and play for Mary, during the quiet hours of the night.
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