A little memorial celebration for my mother, Miriam: it’s 4 months today since she “did a flit” – her own term for death. She took her last breath at 4 am on the 4th day of April – the 4th month. (Her favorite number was 13. Which adds up to 4. Hmmmm.)
She had orbited the sun 96 times, and while she was visually and audially challenged in her later years her joyousness and wisdom never faded or faltered.
She never had much of an education, being the eldest daughter on a remote New Zealand high country farm in the pioneering days, but she could express herself wonderfully with an innocence unaffected by self-consciousness. I love this little piece she wrote not long before leaving us: