One thing photographs do to comfort us in a small way is to remind us of lost loved ones in happier and healthier times. This is myself and my cousin Liz at her wedding in 1987—a picture I'd never seen until yesterday. Liz died very early last Sunday morning, at the age of 55, after a horrendously difficult eight-year-long struggle with breast cancer that was worse than anything anyone should have to bear in dying. During her illness she never wavered, living way past numerous doctors' predictions of her death with an astonishing degree of courage, determination, selflessness, and love—for her loyal husband, children, sisters, friends, and grandchildren.
The procession was a mile long and the church was crowded as we all had to say goodbye. It was enormously sad. Yet I also could not help but sense the joy that obviously so many felt in the privilege of knowing Liz.
(Thanks to Chris)
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