So, too, does death.
My ninety-nine year old grandmother died this week. I am flying five thousand kilometers to be with my family to celebrate her life.
She was cheerful. She was an awful nag. She always stopped to talk to people. She laughed at human foibles, especially her own. She loved her family fiercely.
And even though I last saw her in 2007, I will miss her always.
Norma Jean Wylie (nee Summers)