My daughter died at 1:30 yesterday. The Hospice called us about 12:30, saying that if we wanted to see her, we should come out. So we rolled out at around 1:00. Luckily, I had been to see her Saturday, because she had called me in the morning, asking us to come out. Her mom has a cold, so she thought it might not be too good to take it out there … I went alone. Just as well I did. It was a devil of a place to find, and if I had been under time pressure, I would have probably got to Minnesota before I was done. But this time, her mom came, too … cold or no cold.
Even knowing the way, it's a 2½-hour drive, so when we got there, she was gone. Her BF had been with her, though, so that's some comfort.
My heart is full of pain, and it will be some time before I can be relied upon to think coherently for any length of time. It has taken me about twenty minutes to type this, for instance. It will get better; I have been through death before, and it always does. That's cold comfort now, though.
Thank you all for the concern you have all shown for the past month … and right now, I think I'm going to put that bottle of single-malt, double cask Scots whiskey that my Scottish Lassie sent me to its proper use.
This is the view from what was her room, through a pair of French doors onto a patio. It was even more beautiful the day before, but I didn't shoot it then, and yesterday was windy. It carried off many leaves … and my baby girl.
This is the view across the highway after the hearse came for her. She never would have forgiven me if I hadn't shot it.