My husband’s mother died.
And before anything else, I’m telling you that she was a damn fine mother-in-law, the best I could have asked for. She always offered wisdom from experience, but never imposed her opinions in a way that made me feel like the child I probably was. She happily gave me her son, and regularly invited us over for excellent meals. Her character was the epitome of southern hospitality mixed with the class of the educated. Plus, she liked the Traveling Wilburys.
A few months after she retired and turned 60, her life paused, and then stopped.
And I felt so oddly distanced from that.