And I’m not there. I cancelled yesterday’s flight, having been told to wait awhile. Aaaah! It hurts. These photos were pasted to her daughter Marnie’s fb page today. Mary did get to meet her grandson Max, but was unable to hold on long enough to meet her granddaughter, expected in December.

Marnie, with her Mom, years ago.

Mary with her wonderful, and also long-suffering husband, John, holding Max, about a month ago.

Mary, born in November 1952, the year “they” began above-ground nuclear testing in Nevada, was a “Downwinder,” in utero when those tests began. Sometimes the winds blew north, into Idaho.

For an extraordinary 2010 adventure with Mary, check out:

A Sisterly visit morphs — and morphs again

Mary lies in critical care, University of Washington Hospital, surrounded by her husband, children, and five siblings who live in the area. Kathy, in Idaho, Paula, in Louisiana, and myself are the ones missing. We were all able to send our love and wish her farewell on the phone. She sounded good. Reminded me that I told her she was “smart” during a Scrabble game when she was a teenager, and that she has never forgotten it.

I await her visits from beyond.

Postscript: As I reached to post this, the phone rang. Mary passed at about 4:55 p.m., surrounded with love, and with her wit up to the end. When the priest went to give her the last rites, she said “make it quick!” and when brother John told her, “Now you can leave your earthly body and go to Mom and Dad,” she quipped, “Dad, okay, I don’t know about Mom.” (Her long-standing daughterly grudge against Mom was well known.)

Her wit is Mom’s. John tells me she even looked like Mom in the end.

Such relief!