![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Grandmum passed yesterday morning. All of her kids managed to get there in time and were there in the room when she died. I can't imagine a better way to go: peacefully, asleep, surrounded by family. 98 years old.
I can't imagine a stronger and kinder woman, either. She volunteered at her local hospital for years when I was younger, traveled overseas and extensively right up until she was almost 90, kicked it with a sharp mind and sharper humor up until last year.
I'm so lucky to have known her, so lucky that she got to know and meet her great grand-kids. She knitted many a stuffie for them, which they will hopefully have for a long time.
She was the most encouraging in my family of my writing, and always knew I'd be an author someday. When I got the offer on my first book, one of my first thoughts was that I was so glad she was alive to see it. I don't think she ever read them (which is fine), but she kept them displayed on her bookshelf. I'll always remember how she enthused over my poetry in middle school, how she checked up on my writing over the years.
She also just always had a lot of love. She was a conservative, but I never had to worry coming out to her as queer, and she adored Dr Lady. I mean, she even came to our wedding, which not everyone in my family deigned to try.
It feels like the end of an era, the closing out of something momentous. She was a force in our family, and now she's just... gone. And that's how it goes, doesn't it. The world turns us each closer to our ends. We can only make of it what we can, while we can. And she sure fucking made it.
Her funeral is going to be at Arlington, which could be months yet from now. Grandpa was a vet, so she gets to be buried near him. He died in the 90s, when I was around the same age CG is now. So at least I know how she feels and how to help her along.
I can't imagine a stronger and kinder woman, either. She volunteered at her local hospital for years when I was younger, traveled overseas and extensively right up until she was almost 90, kicked it with a sharp mind and sharper humor up until last year.
I'm so lucky to have known her, so lucky that she got to know and meet her great grand-kids. She knitted many a stuffie for them, which they will hopefully have for a long time.
She was the most encouraging in my family of my writing, and always knew I'd be an author someday. When I got the offer on my first book, one of my first thoughts was that I was so glad she was alive to see it. I don't think she ever read them (which is fine), but she kept them displayed on her bookshelf. I'll always remember how she enthused over my poetry in middle school, how she checked up on my writing over the years.
She also just always had a lot of love. She was a conservative, but I never had to worry coming out to her as queer, and she adored Dr Lady. I mean, she even came to our wedding, which not everyone in my family deigned to try.
It feels like the end of an era, the closing out of something momentous. She was a force in our family, and now she's just... gone. And that's how it goes, doesn't it. The world turns us each closer to our ends. We can only make of it what we can, while we can. And she sure fucking made it.
Her funeral is going to be at Arlington, which could be months yet from now. Grandpa was a vet, so she gets to be buried near him. He died in the 90s, when I was around the same age CG is now. So at least I know how she feels and how to help her along.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject