Silence easy.

I've made the decision to not go to the Garden today. As much as I love the people and the forests, I'm feeling run down enough - not weary, just blurred - that a day of not doing very much, after yesterday's intensity, seems in order.

The service went quickly, as she would have liked. Not so much the weather; we talked about how she wouldn't have liked it, being buried in the cold. Mostly we talked about her great capacity for pleasure and delight in the world and other people's company, and the rabbi spoke about the end of her life as she'd wanted to live it, and how that preceded her death by quite some time. Other people also spoke - her sister, my father, a cousin and her husband - and I wanted to say something, but the rabbi had already said what I'd been thinking about her, with her ability to be happy and to pursue new experiences and friends, and stayed back. I did go forward to help with the burial itself. There's a good finality to that act.

My parents' apartment is done up for shiva, as it were. There will be more people coming over tonight, and I'll be there to greet them, to talk, and to let the grief move as it does. I didn't cry; I didn't need to. I don't feel much desire to. Just to sit quietly and let myself let go of who my grandmother used to be.