My father's aunt, my great-aunt (although we called her a GREAT great aunt because she was so great), was basically my grandmother on his side and the matriarch of that entire side of the family. Her physical and at times mental health had been in decline since before my wedding almost three years ago, and although it was sad for everyone involved, we knew she was ready to go. She had been clear on when it would be time; there was a living will in place and we were to follow her wishes. The scary thing was her timing. She died roughly a week short of her 79th birthday. Before passing she had noted on more than one occasion that her time was near since both her mother and sister had died at the age of 78. Creepy to say the least.
Her life was celebrated greatly in the bringing together of her three sons and all their children, in addition to my parents and myself and all the cousins who were certainly treated as her closest kin.
Here's to an incredible woman who I aspire to emanate and remember as my Bubbe (jewish grandmother).