There are few people I’ve had a harder time figuring out in my life than my grandmother. A good example of this were some of the last words she ever spoke. She had a small stroke (that’s what we’re calling it) on a Monday night last month in her recliner. I called 911 and we got her to the Emergency Room, where she spent the night. The next evening she was cleared to come home. I came and got her, and as we were driving home I asked her if she was scared when she was having the stroke. Predictably, she didn’t answer the question.

“Well, you know, I just couldn’t move my left side. I just felt numb, and that’s what happens when you have a stroke,” she answered.

Right, I said, but … were you scared? She paused for a moment and then in a confident voice simply said “no.”

The next…