The Music of Goodbye

When my great-grandmother, “Grammy Williams,” snapped her fingers to get the attention of some sinning child, that snap was the cocking of a gun.She never raised her voice. Didn’t have to. The angrier the quieter, and that’s far worse.On Halloween, she dressed like a witch. Off Halloween, she ran a preschool. It was called “Grammy’s House,” as in “My house, my rules,” in the sense of:“You’re in MY world now.”Don’t worry, she never hit us. Not with her hands. She hit us with her eyes and with that voice of hers, which would go so quiet it could only be heard by dogs and the damned.Let's meet this marvelous woman...