I am in Texas this morning

Dragon mood? -- a little bit sad

I am in Texas this morning in my thoughts. My uncle's wife, Liz, died Tuesday night of pneumonia, after a heart attack a month ago and after living in a nursing home for the past eight months because of her Alzheimer's disease.

None of us wanted to prolong Liz's existence, which frankly was not all that great. While she was loved and cared for, the Liz I knew and loved was gone, replaced with a child-like clone that stared rather vacantly at me when I visited.

The Liz I remember was vibrant and jovial and she had a great laugh. She was warm and effusive. She couldn't tell a story or a joke without grabbing you on the arm to punctuate the best part of it.

I never saw the pre-Alzheimer's Liz without her talking about my mother and what wonderful memories Liz had of her. With Liz's death, that is one of the biggest losses for me.

People are gathering this morning, just about now, to view her body together, as a family. The public visitation begins in about an hour. The funeral will be tomorrow morning, at the church in Warda, and she will be buried tomorrow afternoon, next to her first husband (I presume) in Nassau Bay, outside of Houston.

I grieve for you, Uncle George, and celebrate the love that you and Liz shared for too short of a time. I commend you for loving her and caring for her right up until the end. I wish you some quietness of your heart and peacfulness in your soul. You certainly deserve that.