My Grandmother died on Wednesday. She was ready, really ready – she’d made that clear. And she’d had 92 years of a life she was very happy about. That’s how it’s supposed to go, but it doesn’t seem to make any of it easier.
Such a strange combination of feelings at the viewing and the funeral – sad about Gram; sad for my Dad especially; happy to see my brothers and my cousins and old friends; missing Christy and the kids, feeling guilty that they’re all home with fevers so Christy couldn’t come; working through the same fever myself. Just unreal, but it’s always unreal.
But man do we miss her.