My husband received news last night that his Aunt Gussie passed away.

She was elderly and had some of the many health-related problems that come with advanced years.  She'd just had a  knee-replacement surgery and came through it with flying colors.  Rather than using general anesthesia, her surgeon ordered a "nerve block" to her leg so that she would remain awake during the procedure.  The doctors and nurses had her up and walking as soon as possible after her post-surgical rest.  She had to take things slow-and-easy, of course, but seemed to be doing well.

From all the information that we received last night, it appears that she attempted to get out of her hospital bed by herself yesterday to go to the bathroom.  We do not know if she was too stubborn to ring for a nurse to come help her, or whether she wasn't thinking clearly because of the medications and her age.  At any rate, she fell to the floor, hit her head on something, and that triggered hemorrhaging which the doctors could not stop in time.

My husband would go by the nursing home where she was staying and spend some time with her occasionally, visiting as well as discussing her current financial concerns (an area in which he dutifully assisted her for many years).  I know he feels a sense of loss that she is no longer in this world.  Even though the two of them weren't incredibly close, he appreciates the value of family.

Odd as it might seem to some people, I never met Aunt Gussie — he and I haven't been together all that long, and I always thought it best to let them spend their time with each other one-on-one rather than my tagging along and mucking things up.  From all that I have heard, though, she had a colorful personality, loved to shop, and thrived on excitement right up to the end.  Sounds to me like she had a full life, one that should be celebrated rather than mourned at her passing.

So, goodbye, Aunt Gussie — I hope there's a good place for you to shop where you are now!

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