My elderly neighbor, Mildred, died last week. The funeral was today. Her passing was a blessing, she was suffering and she was a good Catholic, so I feel she is in Heaven already. For me, still here, I miss knowing she is around. Her knowledge of canning, animal husbandry, local folklore, history, and staunch fighting for rights of property owners will not be shoes filled by anyone else. It is scary to look behind me and see the "old ones" disappearing one by one with their knowledge, their encouragement, and their histories. Today, Mildred's red crocheted hats, the ones she made for us to keep safe in the woods, became sacred items. I will treasure mine as I did not quite before.
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