The Little Things You Miss

I've lived long enough now to have more than a passing acquaintance with the experience of losing loved ones.  My 98 year-old mother-in-law died last week.  Her death, in the words of my friend Sally, was a sad blessing.  A blessing, because the past two years have been hard for her.  Sad, because she's no longer a physical presence in our lives.

We knew her death was coming, of course, but in the end it came faster than we expected once she went on hospice.  Meanwhile, the holidays--which Ruth loved mightily--have arrived.  And I realized yesterday that one of the things I missed most was picking up the phone and wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving.

This is what happens after a person passes.  You spend the next few years discovering all the ways there are to miss her.