Toward the end of her life, I didn't know what to pray for her, not really. Healing was starting to seem an impossibility, not after two liver transplants and a near-desperate search to find another surgeon who was willing to attempt a third. I tried to hard to picture her as whole and healthy, not as I had seen her last, yellow and wrinkled and gaunt. It had been a horrible shock, but after five minutes she was Barbara again.
I guess mourning is for ourselves. I think she dwindled into death, a soft passing for someone who lived life to the hilt. Not long before she died, she was happy to learn she had "earned out" on her last book - sold enough books to cover her advance and then some. For me, no Barbara means no one to seek advice from or to bounce ideas off of. Or no one who is her. I'm glad I was able to tell her one big piece of good news that is not quite at fruition yet.
Appreciate your life and the people in it today.