As a writer I often struggle for just the right word, just the right way to paint a scene, or express the proper emotion. My Aunt Abigail died unexpectedly on October 17th from a cerebral aneurysm. Shock, disbelief, anguish. I feel all of those things, but the words seem so, so inadequate.
They played Sissy's Song by Alan Jackson at Abby's funeral. It was as close to perfect as it's possible to come without a quartet of heavenly angels.
Abby was a gentle soul who was happiest in a flower garden. I don't understand why she had to go, but like the song says, I hope she flew up to heaven on the wings of angels. If anybody ever deserved to be there, she does.
Abby's obituary
