My granddad’s lovely wife of many years, Jeannine, passed away yesterday, after finding out five months ago that she was quite, as I’m pretty sure she put it, ‘full a cancer.’ She was endlessly loving, energetic, positive, and the only person I’ve ever known to genuinely say ‘Yippie Skippie!’ when things pleased her. She made passing away look easy, inevitable, hilarious, human, graceful. When I went over for lunch in July, soon after she’d gotten the news, she wondered where our sandwiches were. ‘I’m dying of hunger!’ Then catching herself. ‘And I’m actually dying. HA!’ Jeannine, I assume that heaven has wireless and so perhaps you’re reading this. Thank you for loving and caring for my Granddad, for the art of sage butter, for the wine opener that lives in my kitchen that looks vaguely of sex toy, for recipes, for scarves. Rest in all of the peace.

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