“My grandmother was 81, she died at home in her bed, with her daughter holding her hand. It wasn’t a prolonged illness, but at the same time we had enough warning that we were all able to say our goodbyes. Honestly, I can’t think of a better way to go. Well, maybe some sort of elaborate mass suicide involving fireworks and showgirls and drugs and showgirls on drugs, and maybe showgirls on drugs on fire. Ooh, yeah, flaming showgirls! But back to my original point. The funeral provided …”
from (un)Lovely

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