Mum died a few days short of her ninety-fourth birthday, assuming my Maths is correct. She was born at the back end of World War One - an astonishing thought. Whichever way you look at it, ninety-four is a darn good innings. A bit of a cliche, but comforting and true.
Noi pointed out yesterday that she may have been pleased to have known she would leave us on a weekend of such significance to her faith. A day of resurrection and redemption does seem strangely appropriate as a time to leave this place and be gathered into eternity.
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