My great-aunt is dead. She died at a nice old age, when she decided she was ready to go. She was done, and she didn't want to be at a nursing home. So she decided she was ready to go - got a chance to see her house again and make sure everything was fine, and then died. On Saturday.
The funeral is Wednesday and the interrment the next day in a town several hours' drive from the funeral. She's being buried in the town she grew up in, not the town she lived in most of her life. She'll be buried with family.
She was a crafter - she was ALWAYS making things. She taught me how to sew by hand and encouraged my sister and I to craft. And to think. To be whoever we were - she never had kids of her own, but she was FUN. We always got to do things when we went to see her. If we weren't crafting, we'd go to the zoo, or ride the paddleboat on the Brazos River, or... any number of things.
She had my first quilt top quilted for me. She made me a rail fence quilt in pinks and blues that I still own. Embroidered her name and the date on the back of it in matching embroidery floss.
I've cried, and will cry more. But the longest lasting impact is the same one she's always had: be me. Think. Be willing to try new things. Keep learning. And keep crafting.
So between crying jags, I am still working. I've solved one quilting issue, and am mentally preparing for the next quilt top. Because when she looks down from her heaven, she'd smile to see me crafting, and know she helped make me who I am.