But the happy kind: when people die in their nineties (and sometimes eighties; perhaps even seventies) it's easier for most of us to let go.

There was weeping, and it was certainly an emotional time for the children and grandchildren of my great-aunt. But it was easier for the great-grandkids and cousins to bear death under such circumstances—after someone has lived a rich, full life.

The great-great granddaughter was too young to comment on the matter, but I'm given to understand that she wanted to be fed and changed after the service. Perhaps there's a message in that.

I was told my great-aunt is having the best times of her life these days, and once more envied the faith that makes such assertions possible. Let's just say I see through the glass very, very darkly and hope one day to glimpse the reality face-to-face.

Goodbye, RoseMary Goodwin.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:40 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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