Last week, my aunt had a catastrophic stroke. She awoke for a time, waited for our family to gather. Her daughter made the journey from France, and her youngest son came from Chicago. Then she stopped responding although she was able to breathe on her own. My uncle and cousins decided to bring her home instead of letting her linger in a hospital room.  You see, my aunt and uncle live in the same house Aunt Barbara was born in.  Hospice is with her now. They say it will be in the next 36 hours or so, and she will make her final journey home.

My dad and I went to see her today. The experts say she can still hear us when we speak to her. I didn’t know quite what to say.  I adored this woman. I told so many stories about her, and she became part of my mythology. The family has her laid out in the great room of her home overlooking the stables where her beloved horses live. I told her it was a great view, and it is. The dogwoods are just coming in bloom, and while it’s difficult to breathe in the South if you have allergies, and it’s a bit on the chilly side, it has been a perfect spring day. Who would want to die on a day like today?

I will miss my aunt forever, and will try my best to see her again in the heaven I know awaits her this night.  She is, in truth, the inspiration for the character of Rhea Crisdean in my fantasy series, Idylls of Alleysiande.  I had so wanted her to live long enough to read the series. I just took too long to finish it, and now I am dwindling in the query trenches.. In the next few hours, my aunt  will get to see what I can only imagine. Lord, please lead her home.