Thanks guys. She was 93.
What's interesting to me was that she has lived with a cousin of mine for the past several years who claims to see ghosts. She supposedly talks to deceased relatives on a daily basis. While the old woman lay in her deathbed, she was remarkably stubborn. My cousin didn't understand why she wasn't ready to die with all of her loved ones waiting on the other side to greet her.
Personally, I sympathize with the woman for not wanting to go, even if I didn't get too worked up over her passing. I've been expecting it for a long time and I marvel that it took so long for it to happen. After her husband died in 2004, she was getting by on 10 or so books a week, cigarettes every few hours, and an occassional Manhattan. She outlived all of her friends and all of her immediate family, save a younger brother. She even lived long enough to see one of her sons die. Every time I spoke with her, she wondered out loud why God was doing this to her. Honestly, when you've done it all, unless you have a way to get young again, why do you want to stay? Because you're afraid of not being any more? Yeah. That's the best I can come up with.
She lived a damned good life. Canadian Royal Air Force, stationed in London during WWII. Married American Navy. Three story home in Milton, Massachusetts in the same neighborhood that JFK went to high school. Seven children. Twenty grandchildren. Eleven great-grandchildren. I wish she'd lived long enough for me to have published a novel, but I wish that of everyone I've ever known who has already died, and above all of them, I am certain that she wouldn't have liked what I wrote. So, in a way, it's a relief.
I don't know. Sometimes death is sad. Sometimes it isn't. Sometimes you get a chance to just plain be thankful to have been a witness to a person who got to see it all. 1920-2013. Damn...she did good.