I Miss You

Dear Aunt Glen,
Well, it's been over a year now since you died and about a year since I went and cleaned out your home, where you spent your last years, where you watched your husband precede you into the next mystery, where I got to know you as two adult women.
A dear friend of mine is losing somebody right now in a way very similar to how we lost you.  You had stage 4 lung cancer and it created other problems that killed you.  My friends father in law is suffering of end stage COPD and they're waiting for that final call.  Nobodies suffering is the same so I can't tell her that I know how she feels, but I think I know how much it hurts.
I remember that we had a few scares in that last year, scares where they told us it was near the end and you kept pulling back out of it by sheer force of will.  Man, you were a tough woman!  I think you wanted that last holiday season with your grandchildren and to see your sisters one more time before letting go, because that's exactly what you did.  I don't know if you know this, but I stayed with you at the end.  When they called I borrowed a car and flew down the highways to you.  Everybody had kept a vigil at your bedside, though I think you were already far beyond us at that point.  You son, your oldest child, and I stayed with you that last night.  We slept a little, but not really, and we took turns holding your hand and talking to you.  I whispered in your ear, I told you it was okay to let go, now.  I remembered a conversation just you and I had had where I told you when it was over I'd know that you were running across a summer field of flowers to your beloved, like Laura Ingalls, and we kind of laughed in that way you do when something hurts but you don't want to cry, so you laugh a little because it hits close to home.  You couldn't even walk at the end, couldn't even use facilities without help, and I told you that when you shed this life that's how I'd see you.
I want you to know that I do.  Today I'm thinking of you and in my thoughts you and Uncle Billy are in a summer place where there is only sunshine and joy, where there is no pain, no fear, no sadness.
Somebody else lives in that house now, and your children have gone their own ways as they always were going to.  No great lessons were learned, no new philosophy has been discovered, no great wisdom gained.  I miss you.  We all miss you.  Life goes one and we're all doing okay.  Thank you for sticking around a bit and taking care of a few things for my Mom.  I think it must be so tiring, at the end of a lifetime, to think of all the things you still wanted to do, to still have to comfort those around you while you're facing the next mystery looming so closely.  You did it very well, with grace, with love, and I think you got to have some fun there, a few times.  I'm glad, but oh, it hurts that you're not here.
Pick a daisy in that field for me, today, and smile for me.
I miss you.
Amy