I don't like emotional ambulance chasers who whore out their grief for all to see, so I will keep it short and hope I don't come off in that light.
My grandmother passed away tonight. The photo of my brother and I modeling her knitwear will always serve as a warm reminder of her. I choose to remember her as the lady with the silver curls ("Don't mess my 'do," she'd warn if you got to close to the dome of hair held in place by a generous mist of Aqua Net), the curator of a killer polyester shirt collection, the Empress of Knitting (hats, scarves, afghans...the list goes on) and the Hertel Avenue Senior Citizen Bingo Champion for much of the aughts.
I am not good with death, or life for that matter. My beliefs are not strong and my cynicism sometime reigns supreme but for a brief moment, I'd like to believe she's found peace wherever she may be.