Her hands often rested gently in her lap, holding each other softly as though made of porcelain instead of delicately wrinkled skin. 

Often when I passed by, she would be resting with her eyes closed, appearing peaceful in her repose. She was well loved by those around her, and had a strong protector watching over her, together longer than either could recall now. He watched out for her, saw to her comfort, fiercely defending her from any potential threat or insult. 

She was always feeling “ok” when asked, smiling beautifully up at me, even when I knew that she was, in fact, in the most pain I could imagine. She was so sweet, rarely a cross word coming from her, and then only under extreme conditions. Everyone cared for her gently, this wise angel among us. 

We felt it coming, and knew that her time was near. We discussed treatments and options, but knew she wouldn’t do well with them. In the end,  the idea of causing more pain was unbearable for everyone, even if it meant a few more days with us, and the words “comfort care” were whispered. 

She was ready to see her father again, and wasn’t afraid, or sad. 

We wept with our shared loss, the angel now returned to heaven, leaving us with memories of her gentleness.