I think of that story in which a king asked a sage to ask him the best wishes possible, and these after a moment said
"grandparents die, fathers die, they die young."
The king became very angry and had him imprisoned. Then he thought better of it, and realized that it is the order of things, and that a parent does not have to attend the funeral of his son is a great thing.
These days she died my grandmother, Louise of which I wrote in January.
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