The funeral for Ryan's grandmother was this past Thursday. She was 93 years old. As we sat there in the Mausoleum listening to the service I happened to glance upon the some of the dates on the wall. There before me was chronicled the birth and death of a young boy. He'd only been 7 when he'd left his family to join the eternal dwellers interred in the cold, silent building.
Somehow 93 didn't seem so bad. A full circle, instead of one just begun. I thought of how much had been accomplished in 93 years and of how much was left unrealized in only 7. A world of experience, of love and sorrow, of pleasure and pain, lie between the numbers of 7 and 93.
We will miss Marjorie. She leaves behind a grieving husband and 5 generations of family. She was the mother of 10; patient and kind, Stubborn and adventurous. She is returned now to One who knew her before she'd begun. 93 years of life wasn't just quite enough for some of us. How much less was it for 7, just begun?
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