There was a death in the family last week. My Great-Aunt, my Grandmother's youngest sister. She had only recently received her diagnosis, with the expectation of her living for another 6 to 9 months. She wasn't willing to live with the lifestyle changes that would have allowed her that time, though. So, she waited for her children and her grandchildren to arrive, that she might see them once more. And then, She Just Stopped. No assistance, no additional painkillers. She refused food, but hadn't stopped eating long enough for that to be the cause of death. Just like her older sister, life was to be on her terms or not at all. Have I ever mentioned that I have some scary strong-willed women in my background?
("A" is for Ancestor)
And So the Food We Had Became Sacred to Us
2 hours ago