Nana didn’t leave home thinking she’d never be back. She thought she’d be coming home.
At the end, she didn’t give a damn — she was so tired and the pain too great.
And the fantastic part about it is that she didn’t need to come back (home) because she didn’t have anything to hide, no messes to clean up. She lived a good life.
She was so brave to live that year and a half alone. She’d never lived alone before that. Eighty-something years always with someone else.