She Was A Grand Lady (Part Two)

Having spent the bulk of yesterday moping around (ugly, but true) as I continually lost the battle between what I WANTED to say versus what I felt NEEDED to be said, I’m starting this post early to see if I can do better today.

Maybe I should start with some other other ugly but true things:

Late on Friday I got the news that my (honorary) Aunt had died.

Even though we lived far apart, I’m not surprised to find that I miss her.  What IS a little surprising to me (but only a little) is the depths of my anger that came along with the news . . . anger because in some ways I’ve been missing her for years. 

You see, among the MANY lessons she taught me, directly and indirectly, one of them was to come to detest the phrase “doing well for their age,” because SHE was only partially “there” in those last years.  Now don’t get me wrong, she was certainly “there” enough to be over 90 and retain her independence and have just about everyone nod their heads about how “well” she was doing, and all that; and I’m not dismissing how rare and special it is in this day and age to be able to die independent in one’s own home and on one’s own terms . . .

But damn all that to Hel, I remember when she was THERE . . . alive and vital, and age never touching her at all.  I even have a pretty good idea when that stopped (the day my Uncle died, I suspect), and I KNOW you can do a lot worse than she did.  I KNOW the margin for improvement is a hell of a lot smaller than the margin for “it could have been worse.” 

But I don’t care about that. . . not now.

Not ever.

I can deal with her passing out of my life.   

I’m having a harder time with her passing out of hers before she died.


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