She died this morning.
Gently, I hope.
After a long life that held more love and more loss than anyone should have to carry.
She was a mother.
A grandmother.
A woman of faith, even when that faith was stretched thin by grief.
She buried too many people she loved.
She kept going anyway.
She laughed.
She worried.
She believed.
She doubted.
She loved fiercely and without condition.
She lived through wars of the body and wars of the heart.
She held her family together when it would have been easier to fall apart.
She is no longer in pain.
No longer waiting.
No longer watching those she loved suffer.
Whatever comes next—if anything—she deserves peace.
She mattered.
She was loved.
She will be remembered.
Rest now, Gran.
You’ve done enough.