Today the angel fell off the perch. Or perhaps was pushed off the perch and dragged a bit. Nothing broken. We checked it out, but couldn't budge it. The keeper came and moved it back in place. All is well again in the damp garden.
But as this angel falls, another flies. The keeper received a call from her brother who said Aunt Wyn died, and she flew after a long struggle with the indignities of age this past Sunday. It was her sister's birthday, and Wyn had been mad that her sister had passed on Christmas. Now they are even. She was a gentle spirit, she did good work, spent less than a year as a bride, and the rest of her life as a mother and widow. May she rest from her labors and struggles in delight and freedom, the tears of that long lost love now wiped away. She has flown home like "a shooting star in the night" (Sojourner Truth), and we are grateful to have had her with us for so long.
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