The past few weeks have been full of such beauty and pain. The woman at the center of our lives passed to the next world last night, surrounded by her loved ones, while asleep in her bed, in the house where she lived for 62 years. In that house, and anywhere she went, she grew gardens, not only of beautiful flowers, of sweet fruits and veggies, but also of people. Her life was about tending to these gardens, checking in on them, worrying about them, watering them with love and care, and with all intention, creating the structures and conditions for life and love to flourish, for her people and her plants to achieve their fullest potential. And she did this all for life itself, for her love of all things beautiful, pure, and simply true. 

Last night she was so peaceful. Our prayers and music, our tears and attention, had surrounded her all day long. And she passed so sweetly, without pain or sadness. The pain and sadness are ours to hold, to feel, and to recognize as the thorns of the most beautiful rose, her favorite flower. I know her love, guidance, and gentle presence will continually wash over us all the days that we live, and again when we meet face to face. 

I want to thank the supportive care offered to our family by hospice, services that Grammy dedicated her life to ensure for others as the founder and first executive director of Hospice of Little Traverse Bay. She took the first hospice patient all those years ago; it is only fitting that in her time of transition she would benefit from the fruits of her labor. 

And to all those who encountered the pure goodness of the Gingerbread House B&B, or who knew her from her time as a nurse and nursing instructor, we know you loved her as your own (grandma, mother, sister, friend). And she is yours too. She had that capacity, a universal quality, to touch the lives of all who crossed her path. Thank you, Grandma, for blessing us all. Thank you for the deepest love, the greatest joy, and the honor of caring for you. We’re always with you.

Granddaughter Meghan