Sweet Husband's grandmother died late last week and we spent the weekend with the family celebrating her life.
This was the Kid's first real experience with death (aside from a few chickens and a now legendary fish) so it was a good learning moment for all of us.
"Why did Grandmother die?"
"She was very, very old."
"What will happen to her now?"
"Well, her body will go in a big box and we'll bury it in the ground."
"I'm a little sad that great grandma died."
"It's OK to be sad, but she was so very tired and she'd had a long, good life."
And--as we repeated that colloquy several times over the course of the weekend--I realized that was pretty much the story of it.
A long, good life, but it was her time to go.
Although it would be a better story if her health had been better these past few years, there's something...oh...beautiful, actually, about that.
As my strong husband and his cousins carried her casket....as we passed the tiniest great-grandchildren around from arms to arms and talked with the oldest about graduations and weddings....it was pretty "circle of life".
And, while it seems uncouth to call the deceased person at a funeral "lucky", I hope that when it's my time to go I'll have just as happy and healthy of a family to send me off with love.