all good things are wild and free
Henry David Thoreau
My grandmother died a few hours ago. It was a little sudden. But she'd been fading for a while. She went very peacefully, in my mother's arms. My mother was telling her it was ok to go, that everything was allright. She missed her favorite holiday by one day.
It's been a bad year for relatives of the people in my neighborhood. My neighbor across the street lost his father a couple of months ago, and my backyard neighbor also lost her grandmother this week. So much loss, so close to home.
I feel sorry that my grandmother didn't get to see the spring this year. She was always so happy to see the birds, flowers, and trees come back to life in the warming sun. She wasn't a big explorer, but she enthusiastically enjoyed the simple act of sitting on her porch and watching her small world of nature go about it's business. Her other passion, besides nature, was poetry. She loved the simple, sweet, honest words. She had a tough life. She grew up with lots of rough and tumble siblings on a farm in coastal Maine and not a whole lot of anything else. But even as a child, she loved to read. And write. Not too many years ago, my mother, grandmother, and I published a few issues of a zine together. Probably the only three-generation zine ever created.
Oh, and she voted for Nader in 2000. She was definitely no political activist, but she knew what was good for her family and friends.
She will be missed by many. Her quiet, but happy soul was always there, watching the birds and flowers in the yard. And in my memory, she'll always be there, even now that she's left us.
