Yesterday, my grandmother of my father's side of the family died at age 96, which effectively means I don't have any left.
I feel sad, but in fact, I'm kind of happy for her as she lived a prosperous life (including some hardships, true, such as outliving two of her children and being a widow for the last 33 years of her life), went out to see the world, knew everything of everyone in the family and basically was there for everyone who needed her. It has been good.
As she grew older, during the final months of her life, she obviously forgot a thing or two, but still knew the details. I will consider myself to be very lucky to have that when I'm old and feeble.
Her funeral will be next Thursday.
Thank you grandma, for being with us all those years; you will be missed.
K.