Nana died this morning.
I'm to speak at the memorial service on Saturday, and I'm really at a loss for what to say that could do either the lady or the sorrow justice.
There's enough to be thankful for: that she died peacefully and relatively comfortably, that she never had to give up her wonderful apartment, that I was able to see her twice in the weeks before she died, and that she remained sharp, focused, cognizant, and loving right up until she closed her eyes for the last time. These things can go harder.
And yet, somehow, those joys are joys but still serve as no consolation. When someone dies whom you love so terribly, so deeply that you didn't know how much space she took up in your heart until she isn't there to fill it anymore, it doesn't matter how gentle or dignified the passing: the empty space is the same.
So Andy and I spent nine or so hours in the car, round trip, and simply enjoying the trip with him was the greatest consolation I could have.
Lunch at the Lobster Cooker afforded us a bit of a photo op.
On the way home, we drove the long way around the coast of Portsmouth and Northern Massachusetts. We stopped off and poked around the rocks and tide pools a bit near Odiron State Park.
It's funny how you can have a great day and a terrible day all at the same time.