"Great Grandpa!"

I'm shaking him and shaking him but he just won't move. Why won't he move? Why won't he wake up? He's so light, almost lost beneath the blankets.

"Wake up, please!"

The strength suddenly leaves my legs, and I slump next to the bed.

"Please..."

"What in the never-god's pickled-"

I turn to look at the doorway as a barely-dressed MacWillie abruptly falls silent, short hair spiked out in clumpy tufts. She draws in a deep breath, concern etched across her face.

"...shit. I'm so sorry, young Sky."

"He won't wake up, MacWillie!"

She walks over and looks down at Great Grandpa, then kneels next to me, placing a broad hand on my back.

"...there's no easy way to say it, Sky. He's gone."

"No! He can't be... he was just sleeping... go get Window Doctor! Someone get Window!"

"Aye, I'll go do that, Sky. You just wait here, okay?"

She retreats from the room but I barely notice her go, my mind racing in circles about nothing at all. My hands hover over the blankets, but I don't know what to do with them. Nothing's working. Great Grandpa won't wake up.

Time passes, and then Window is in the room.

"Can I examine him, Sky?" he asks gently, and I nod, shifting to the side. Window will figure out what's wrong.

He pulls back the blankets to Great Grandpa's waist, revealing his favorite blue and white patterned nightshirt. The stethoscope briefly rests on his unmoving chest, and then Window sighs.

"I'm sorry. He has passed. It was peaceful."

That's not right. That can't be right. I want to yell at him for being wrong but I can't quite figure out how to talk.

More time passes.

Somehow Stove is next to me now. My throat hurts.

"Sky. Can you look at me, Sky?"

I manage to wrench my eyes away from the silent form. It feels like moving through tar, as if there's some horrible gravity sucking me back towards the bed. Have I been screaming? Stove is squatting next to me, spectacles low on her nose.

"That's it. Now, can you take a deep breath for me?" I do as she says. "Very good. Can you do another?"

With the second inhalation it's like a dam bursts in my chest. Sobbing, I lunge forward and wrap myself around Stove, clinging to her.

"He's..."

I can't finish the sentence, shudders racking my body. Stove's arms encircle me, holding me as a waterfall of pain pours out of my every movement.

He's gone.

Great Grandpa Axe is dead.

My last family is dead.

I don't know how long it takes me to stop crying, but eventually the tears dry up. I sniffle one last time and let go of Stove, looking at her through blurred vision.

"It's too soon. I'm not ready for him to be gone. He never finished teaching me how to be a Memoriam." I wipe an arm across my face. "We had so much left to talk about."

She looks at me sympathetically.

"There's never enough time for those we love. We can only appreciate the moments we're given." She hugs me close again, a whisper in my ears. "He was always so proud of you."

I let her help me to my feet, my knees protesting from being bent so long, and the rest of the room finally registers. Broom is looking at me with concern, standing by the door, MacWillie next to her, now fully dressed. Huckens is on the other side, his own eyes red, and I even see Violet's face peeking through the doorway, though she quickly disappears, the clicking of her dog's nails on the floor fading away.

I wish I knew the right words to ease your pain.