My beloved Miss Margaret is gone, now. The last couple of years have been hard enough to make me really wonder why anyone would want to live to 98. Stretching out the last few years means not remembering visits, not getting to eat chocolate cake, not eating fried foods, or anything salty, no matter how much you like them. No bacon. Think of it. Bacon, bacon, every where, and never a crumb to eat.
But she's been a great source of stability and comfort for me over the past thirty years or so, and I miss her.