And so I sit here in the airport, on my way to pay her my last respects, feeling forlorn, not wanting to fend for myself.   

Lillian MacVicar lived a heck of a life.  Right up until the very end when, at age 99, she took a

a fall that became the first in an ironically short series of dominoes that fell  in the same way she lived her life - neatly, efficiently and with  little drama.   As in life, there was no way my great Aunt would have caused a commotion.   She would take a straight route.  There would remain nothing circuitous about her.

Aunt Lil was Merriam-Webster's fifth definition of decent:  "marked by moral integrity, kindness, and goodwill."   Decent yes,  and dynamic, inquisitive,  a sheer joy to be around.   She was a nurse, a florist, an animal lover. She loved and cared for her husband Wally and, when he passed, she remained in the house two doors down from her younger brother for a quarter century,  never re-marrying.  She lived modestly, fastidiously, yet always,  in the moment.   Above all else, she was the epitome of the word genuine.  

Whenever I visited her, as I was lucky enough to do two months before she passed, all I wanted to do was pull up a chair next to her.  We talked, she let me record our conversations.  I wonder now if she knew how I ached to preserve more than just her voice.  I wanted a great-nephew's share of her outlook,  a full measure of her wisdom.   

I know my breath will become short and my heart will skip a beat when I pass by her house, when I look into the eyes of her 93 year old brother, my grandfather, when I walk into the the church, when I board the plane back home with the knowledge we will not share time again in this earthly life.    But I am already steeling myself, preparing to fend for myself,  and reminding myself of the goodness of the Lord in allowing me to love and be loved by my great Aunt Lil.   May God bless her and keep her.