Yesterday I received an email saying our older two children's stepmom's father had died. He was such a dear, dear man. He was 93. He was funny, brilliant, charming and such a gentleman. He got to die at home, and with his beloved wife by his side. It was a lovely way to go, and hospice made it smooth and gentle. Hospice is such an amazing aid to people. Their compassion, skills and professionalism are awe inspiring. This was in Ireland, and yet they are being buddhas everywhere.
I know I was so grateful my Dad could die at home. He loved his house, his garden, and he was able to wake up in the morning, and lie on the sofa looking out on the garden he'd designed as he died. He was eased into that transition in familiar and loved surroundings. I'm glad this father and grandfather could do so as well.
I've sent flowers and cards. We won't be flying over, as we are going to see our daughter in two days. But my heart is there with them. What a gift it has been to grow to love my first husband's widow and all her delightful family. I adore her parents and her brother, his wife and kids. They've widened our circle of love and connection and made my life better and happier. I'm lucky.
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