Thanks to everyone for their kind words and condolences. The funeral was lovely. I had the pastor read a poem that my grandmother wrote, called "Springtime". I thought it was appropriate given the time of year and the fact that it spoke of new beginnings. On this day, however, it was cold and rainy, so cold, in fact, that ice fell with the rain and coated the trees on the top of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was very pretty. The family cemetery is on top of one of those mountains and looks over miles of ridges and valleys.
I've got a mountain of stuff to catch up on -- emails, posts, rewrites, laundry, grocery shopping . . . Joy.