To know her was to love her

Jimmy's mother died this afternoon. She was ninety-two years old, and had suffered an incapacitating stroke last August.

Jimmy and I had been at the beach for the past week. Jamey called this morning to tell us that his grandmother wasn't doing well, and that he was headed down from Atlanta, and we came on home, too.

She died about forty-five minutes after we arrived, and I'm convinced that she was hanging on, waiting for Jimmy and Jamey to get there. Jimmy held her hand and told her, "We're all here, Mama, and it's okay to let go," and she went peacefully, surrounded by the people she loved.