Mumzie died on Thursday morning. She was 94 years old, having just had her birthday in May. We had the funeral service today. It was a very lovely little graveside service, which is what she wanted. Poor Shirley, left alone in the house that had held all of them now gone: her husband, her children, and her mother. I don’t really understand how she goes on. I think caring for her mother gave her great purpose.
I signed the guest book and included Tula (in spirit). This is not a silly gesture—Mumzie loved Tula & Tula loved her “grams.” And Tula was there with us on some of the days toward the end. She would run to the bedroom first thing upon entering the house. Grams was always giving Tula too many treats and telling me that she was hungry.
So here we are again. Left with those waves and spasms of grief, and the resurfacing of past losses. Each new ending bringing a trail of the beloved. All gone gentle into that good night, no rage against the dying of the light.