I've just returned from paying my respects before she was sent to the morgue. It is 4:40 AM and the house is still hot.
My parents picked me up about 2:45 AM and they and my sister and one of my uncles were there. We swapped stories. I told them everything I could about Friday before the pain started, and about her last joke to me while I changed her diaper in the hospital. ("I suppose turnabout is fair play: I did the same for you!")
Tomorrow's (today's) family picnic is suddenly going to be an impromptu wake. How appropriate that we were all already planning to see each other because Kristen's in town.
I kept telling my dad stories as we left the hospital. Incidentally, showing her Lawrence of Arabia two weeks ago may be the single thing I've done that has my dad's greatest approval. He seems very comforted that she remained so much herself right up to the end.
She was 91.