My mother

My mother would have reached the age of 89 years in December: in my grandmother's words, she would have reached her 90th year.
She didn't.  She died on October 3rd.
This was how she looked on my last visit to her:

She hasn't known me for years, but immediately said: "You look like me!"  That's close enough, I guess...

...having a laugh - so typical of her - with Cat

A last look.

She really did have the most lovely smile and loved to laugh. But, although these photos don't really do justice to her, she looked more content - and her hair was prettier - than she had done for quite some time.
And that was a great, great blessing.

PS. After her death, friends wrote kind cards. Those with memories of her with especially treasured. Some of those kind words:
"Nothing prepares us for the death of a parent."

"A ship sails and I stand watching till she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says she is gone.
Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large now as when i last saw her. her diminished size and total loss from my sight is in me, not in her.
And just at that moment, when someone at my side says she is gone, there are others who are watching her coming over their horizon and other voices take up a glad shout - there she comes!
That is what dying is.
A horizon and just the limit of our sight.
Lift us up O Lord, that we may see further." Bishop Brent.

"I remember her vividly as a great family friend who was always bubbling over with her characteristic zest for life, a truly good person who was always a pleasure to be around."
"We enjoyed the friendship between our two families and how welcome your parents always made us feel when we ventured up the road to number 75..." (Clifton Road, Rugby, our family home.)