The facts of life

My grandmother’s health started a serious decline about a month ago, and last week, she died.  I didn’t feel like blogging about it while it was going on, and I don’t have the energy to say much right now, except that I am glad I went to see her during spring break, and also glad that the three of us–Stubb, the Snork Maiden, and I–made a special trip three weeks ago to see her.  But I would like to share with you the following conversation I had with my father-in-law, Stubb’s dad, upon my return from the funeral:

F-I-L: How was the funeral?

Me: Well, you know…(lump in throat)

F-I-L: I know, even as I was saying it, it wasn’t exactly what I meant to say…

Me: Yeah, well, it was sad because we all adored her so much, but it was good, too, because…because–

F-I-L: Because you all said so.  [Meaning, we all said how much we adored her.]

Me:  Yes, exactly.

I keep feeling compelled to tell people that I know I am lucky, not just to have had a truly wonderful grandmother, but to have had her for so long (she was 94), and for the Snork Maiden to have known her, and so forth.  Intellectually, I know that all of these things are stunningly lucky, but what I feel is sad.