I feel weird. Like a chunk of my growing up and growing in the recent decades has been taken off my life and sliced off from me. I will never see Jennifer again. She is gone off on a comet into God's arms and off to rebirth perhaps soon after. Which means, either way: she is gone.

My life was sheltered from death: my last mourning for a family member or anyone human, has been when I was 19 years old. Over 25 years ago. It is a strange feeling. Goodness gracious death is weird. Felix Leclerc said "death is beautiful: it is full of life in it". But it is life far away from those left behind on earth in this life where they have known the person who left. She was ninety years old: sick all her late adult life. In truth, she is at super peace right now it is obvious. I felt her very  much last night, a few hours after she had passed. And again when BJG was eating fish n chips scallops (his mom's favourite) in tears later the following day. I really felt like, through me, she was there with him, checking on him, seeing how he lives his life and when he is sad because she is gone otherwise. There is a sense of unbearable lightness of being (to borrow kundera) of the soul right now. Me, I feel solid, hard, concrete. Her, she feels light as a ray of sunshine or a feather. Utter peace and bliss. 

I take much comfort in that unbearable lightness of being. Like what God makes me feel of Jennifer after this life.