In the monotony that has been the last three weeks of being laid up with the most persistent cold ever, today was significant as we said an unexpected goodbye to our neighbour Gyongyi Suller, whom we called Ginger.
For the better part of a decade Ginger has been our most reliable chicken sitter. She always made herself available any time we asked for her help if we needed to be away from the farm. I will remember Ginger as being a most generous and considerate person. The only time that we approached her for help during a time that she was planning to be away herself, she offered to rearrange her plans in order to make herself available for us. I was unprepared to lose Ginger. I will miss her encouraging words and support. I cherished knowing that she was just around the corner (and always in my corner) if I ever needed her.
I have come to a strange realization about what my boys would call the "trickiness" of death. We all know people who consistently seem to be on death's doorstep, yet they keep on living as old or sick as they are. Meanwhile, there are people who spend time and energy caring for these older or sicker others and it is these seemingly healthy individuals who I have seen pass away without any warning at all. It is like they simply disappear into the afterlife leaving the rest of us behind to figure out how to keep going without them. I find it all difficult to comprehend.
At the funeral today, Ginger's son described her as the heart and soul of her family. I empathize with those whom she left behind. Managing the grief that goes along with losing someone so fundamental to the fabric of one's family is a difficult thing.
Ginger, may you rest in peace. You will be missed.
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