Agilehound
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My Aunt Rosy would do something she called "gathering the chicks". This involved setting aside a day or two several times/year to make sure she heard the voice of every single chick in her flock. Didn't matter that every chick was plenty old enough to be a hen (or rooster), she still touched base with every single one of them. And this took time, as her flock included not only her own children/grandchildren, but all the "extras" she'd acquired throughout the years . . . kids she'd met through her many years of volunteering w/special needs children, her brother's kids who she took into her home when theirs was no longer a good place to be, and, after my mother died, all of us adult kids too - all 9 of us.
She prided herself on being able to care for her husband (who was 20+ years her senior) while he suffered through dementia, personality changes, and slowly died. She told me once that when it was near the end, she'd hold his hand and tell him of the glories of heaven. I can't imagine the strength that took. I tried to do that for her as well, but all I could manage was quiet weeping and tightly holding her feverish puffy fingers. I was a little embarrassed when my sisters gathered around cheerleading her to get better when everyone there knew darn well she couldn't. I wish I could have been the one to give her the comfort she gave her husband, rather than silently standing by as everyone firmly pushed for denial. But I guess it just wasn't in me. Maybe my time for that will come someday; I know what to do - I just have to find the strength do it.
It started snowing hard at midnight the day my Aunt Rosy was buried. All the schools closed, most people couldn't get to work, everything ground to a halt. My husband rose at 6am and worldessly started blowing snow. Then he dusted off the 4wheel drive and we slowly drove 2 hours to the funeral. If it was humanly possible, there was no question of whether we would be going or not.
I found the funeral service horrid, no offense meant to anyone here but I struggle with those Missouri Synod ministers who say things like "you may think it strange to tell a grieving family this, but God wants me to" and then proceed to preach hell and doom to make you cry harder. So I clasped my hands piously, closed my eyes, and slowly counted from 1 to 1000 to calm myself and avoid listening to him. I'm sure I'm going to hell for that, and for continually reminding myself that Aunt Rosy really liked this minister so I shouldn't be imagining him in his tighty whities to keep from crying. 
So all in all, I was holding it together pretty good until I watched my husband help shoulder the burden of the casket to carry it out. I held my 3yr old on my hip and bit my lip as tears streamed down my face. Then I hear this:
"Mommy, are you sad?"
I smile through the tears to reply "yes baby, I'm sad I won't get to see Aunt Rosy any longer. I'm happy she won't hurt any more now that she is an angel, and I know she is happy to be with her angel family, but I will miss her."
In response I feel a little hand on my cheek as she brushes away my tears, and in a very calm, gentle voice she crooned "dry your tears, mommy . . . dry your tears". Then she wrapped her little arms tight around my neck, and I wondered how on earth I ever got so blessed. I better clean up my act a little bit so I too can get to heaven to be with my family!
I have many blessings I've told you of here . . . my wonderful husband, my Aunt Rosy, and my daughter. The Farmboy disapproves of having his picture taken; I have nothing worthwhile of him to share here. And my Aunt Rosy suffered from a degenerative eye disease that required her to undergo many painful surgeries and made her eyes very sensitive to light . . . I have a few treasured snaps of her, but that didn't lend itself well to the kind of photos I would have like to have created. But that's OK. I have more than enough never to forget her by.
So I'll just share one image of my blessing that doesn't mind having her picture taken, thank goodness. All cc welcome. I went back & forth over the crop; do you think I should crop the top of her head off to put her eyes higher in the frame?
f/2.8 @ 85 mm, 1/200, ISO 100, jumbo softbox clamshelled with reflector camera left, XL softbox turned down for fill camera right.
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