Ms. Bea is in the hospital. Some of you may remember her back from Daddy Byron's passing away almost two years ago. Apparently, she complained of shortness of breath Thursday night and had a heart attack at some point that night or Friday. She's been in the intensive care unit all weekend. Her kids talk pretty doom and gloom but Mom and I are optimistic. She's 75 years old.Mom and I went to see her this afternoon. You can't stay long in the ICU and you have to call first but we figured we could double up and give her a two for one visit deal. It's been a little while since I've seen her and I was struck at how small she was. Ms. Bea is perhaps 5 feet tall in shoes. And while she's a little plump I was just so overcome by her tiny little feet. We stayed with her for about 15 minutes or so. She was sedated and had an air tube but could nod her head yes and no. I put lotion on her feet and Mom ran her fingers through her hair. She has the softest skin. In addition to her size, I was dismayed by her silence. Ms. Bea is rarely at a loss for words. Her eyes did perk up a bit when I told her when she got home I would come over so she could fuss at me for never visiting enough. But it was very sad to only hear the hiss of her oxygen and the quiet steady beat of her pulse on the machines. Daddy says that there's a three year rule. That when one half of an elderly couple dies, the other half will rarely last longer than three years after that. I can't imagine what it's like for her. Despite all of their bickering and fussing, Ms. Bea lived almost all of her life with Daddy Byron. They raised three boys in that house. Definitely a good 50 years. His absence must be overpowering at times for her. Loneliness ought to be a valid cause of death for any medical certificate. Regardless, I'm not ready for Ms. Bea to die yet. And based off our visit today, I don't think she is either.