Eleven years ago today...

Today is the eleventh anniversary of my grandmother's death. It was the first time I lost someone close to me. And having grown up as neighbors, I was very close to her.

Unlike today, which was sunny and warm, that day was cool and rainy. A fitting day to die, I thought at the time. For her, it was the end of a year-long struggle with ALS.

What a coincidence that it happened on the day that the rest of the world took joy in celebrating death and all things evil. It turned my stomach. Going to the hospital that day, I shut my eyes against the hanging skeletons, open caskets and the images of Death carrying his sickle. Obviously, these people couldn't have ever felt the heart-wrenching loss of death, or they would never celebrate it.

This year, like that year, we had a beautiful fall. For the most part the weather was lovely and the colors were gorgeous. The day we buried my grandmother we drove into the cemetery, with the sun shining through the yellow maple leaves, looking like we were entering the gates of heaven, as indeed my grandmother was.

"Heaven's" Entrance

My grandparents' last earthly resting place.