My gf's Aunt Mimi died a few hours ago. I'm not really too sad, and I hope that doesn't sound heartless. I miss her, I'll always miss her, but I'm not sad she's passed. She did it on her own terms, in her own home, and family was with her. She was very old, and she had cancer, which wasn't being treating by her own choice. She had specified when it was time no drastic measures were to be taken--no ambulance to the hospital, and I bet she had signed a DNR.
I'm sad because I wish I had made her one more mince pie. I think everyone is sad about something similar when a loved one passes on. You wish you had visited one more time or sat with them for one hour more or told them they were loved or that you made them one more pie.
Aunt Mimi had never married and up until...oh, 5 or 6 years ago, she maintained her own apartment with very little help. As the neighborhood she lived in began to decline, her family convinced her--not without some difficulty--to move into an assisted living home. I'm not sure what finally convinced her to do so: The place she eventually moved in to was brand-new (she was one of the first three tenants, IIRC), she was on her own as much as she wanted to be, and her family was much closer. If I wanted to, I could've walked to her new apartment in less than two hours. We're glad she moved; she made new friends and seemed happy to be there. For ourselves, she was much closer and it was easier to visit her regularly (which I confess we didn't do often enough) and her apartment had a great view of the local Fourth of July fireworks show. It became a tradition to make dinner for her on the Fourth, then watch the fireworks from her place.
I don't recall exactly when I met Mimi--a family holiday, almost certainly. If she had a fault it would be that she could talk...and talk...and talk...but it wasn't that bad to deal with because she was one of the funniest people I've ever met. I think part of it was the "old" way she talked, which was slightly more forma than the vernacular of today is (asking, "Whatever possesed him?" when told I baked a mince pie for her, instead of saying, "What the hell'd he do that for?" not that Aunt Mimi would use such vulgar language) and part of it was her cadence when talking, but most of it was just that she was such a great storyteller. Only one story comes to mind right now:
As a younger lady, Aunt Mimi didn't know how to pick a ripe cantaloupe. At a market--and she may have told us the year this took place, the name & address of the market, and the smells & color of paint on the walls, such was the detail of her memory and storytelling--she looked over the 'lopes, then picked one. Aunt Mimi told us, "Then a lady standing nearby told me, 'You don't want to eat that one.'"'Well, what do I want to do with it?' I asked..."
Believe me, it was the delivery. We all lost it.
Another recollection, kinda apropos of nothing: Thanksgiving and she was asked if she was ready to eat. "I hope to kiss a pig if I'm not," she answered, and everyone took that to mean she was ready.
Or maybe it's apropos of something: On reflection, I think Aunt Mimi was ready to pass on. She had made enough preparations and had left enough instructions to tell me she knew it was coming and probably coming soon. Had I realized...dang, the Fourth was just two and a half weeks ago, and I should've baked one more mince pie.