Now that her death might actually be around the corner, I can’t quite believe it. Every couple of weeks, I get the same call from my parents. Bubbe is refusing to eat; she believes people are poisoning her food. She’s combative and abusive and weak. There is a likely possibility that she might not last the night. But she always survives. One hundred and a half years old and she slowly returns to herself. I know that one day very soon, she will not get better. But she has every time before.