Dad, of course, is completely and totally gutted. His only sibling is gone. I wish I knew what to say to him that hasn't already been said. Complicating matters is that his own elder birthday is just a few simdays away. If imagining mom as an elder is difficult, imagining dad as one is darn near impossible.
The only thing that seems to soothe him, of course, is his music. When I walked in that evening, he was in the middle of the floor with his guitar, almost as if he was in a trance. I didn't recognize the song, but mom told me later it was the one he'd written for Aunt Margaret, called "Maggie." It's got a haunting rhythm with a quiet tempo. Seems he's got a song written for pretty much everyone important in his life. I wonder if he's gonna perform it at her funeral service. Seems like it'd be a fitting tribute.
Speaking of her funeral service, I finally got started on that obituary for the paper. I spent the rest of the evening in the library working on it. After searching Aunt Margaret's laptop, I found that she'd written her own obituary; I simply worked from that template, adding in details as I saw fit.
"Margaret Niamh Plumb, daughter of the late Nigel Plumb of Sunset Valley and the late Carolyn Finney Plumb of Thirsk, Yorkshire, England, passed away on Sunday evening, week 22, Day 1. Age 105 Days. She is survived by one brother, Nathan Jolina-Plumb of Sunset Valley; five nephews, Nicholas Frio, Noah Plumb, Nathaniel Ursine, William Tripp, and Sebastian Plumb; one niece, Savannah Plumb; and a host of other relatives and friends..."
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