She was also a family woman, raising two children as a single mother in the days when it was even more taboo than it is now, because while people pay lip service to tolerance and acceptance the nuclear family is still seen as the default and deviation from that default is not socially acceptable. She eventually sold her house in the West Country to one of the guitarists from Gong and moved in with her daughter's family, where she helped to raise her grandchildren, managed to kick a lifelong smoking habit, and instill a sense in those same grandchildren that you could be who you wanted, no matter how many people scoffed at you or denied you or belittled you for wanting what you wanted.

She died on Sunday, in a residential home for people with advanced dementia. This isn't another loss to CoVid-19, thankfully. She didn't surrounded by worried eyes above faceless white masks and behind a clear plastic face shield. She would have hated that, I'm sure, even before the dementia took her memories of nursing and her drive and her endless compassion away from her.

It's okay if you're wondering who she is. You've got no reason to know of her. She wasn't renowned or famous or anything like that. She was just kind.

And I wanted to tell you a little bit about who my grandmother was.

Thank you for indulging me.

---
"She's old, she's lame, she's barren too, // "She's not worth feed or hay, // "But I'll give her this," - he blew smoke at me - // "She was something in her day." -- Garnet Rogers, Small Victory

FiMFiction.net: we might accept blatant porn involving the cast of My Little Pony but as God is my witness we have standards.

In blowing out a candle, two others are lit. The Vigil goes on forever.