I just don't have the words. I must have gone to sleep last night just moments before the post was made. Zenkitty, thank you for all you did to keep us informed of the situation. Ginger was always so matter of fact about how many years she thought she could get based on treatments and statistics, I just really wanted that for her. Sadly, the only time I met her in person was in Ohio over a decade ago. I'm so glad I took that trip.

People keep asking me if I'm ok this morning. Not really!

If they do, I would be happy to host if anyone wanted to make the trip to be here.

If something happens I may make a trip. I expect her family is overwhelmed at the moment. I don't know if Ginger had made her wishes clear to anyone.

I am dreading going to work today, because my boss is going to be in the office, so I can't shut the door and hide, and at some point she is going to ask how I am or even just look at me side wards and then I will want to cry.

I called in sick. i just can't today.

I took a walk on the beach this morning on the sandbars and this place is ... it's like my church.

I tHoughton about Ginger and ita. And all of us. This is the place I feel most connected to the universe and I don't know what I'm trying to say. I guess my walk today was like. Lighting a candle for Ginger.

That sounds beautifully peaceful, askye.

That's lovely, askye. I often feel that way about the beach. I'm most at peace when I'm near the ocean.

Thanks again for being there for Ginger and for us, Zen.

One kindness is that there was just enough warning for Ginger to have loved ones around her in her final days. I feel sure that having people there at the last, and reassurance that plans were in motion to take care of Mr. Peabody,were a huge comfort to her.

Last night when it happened I was at an unusual concert - Frank Almond, the concert master for the Milwaukee Symphony, the 300-year-old Lipinski Stradivari, and about 30 people on folding chairs in a tiny violin gallery. My mind was sort of free associating between Ginger, ita and the music in a way that was really soothing. When I came out and saw the news it felt like I'd spent the last two hour preparing my brain. Which doesn't make it any less awful, but helped nonetheless. Then I got home and took the dog to the park in the dark and cold for an hour and that too was like a balm.

Along with Bach and Beethoven, one of the pieces was by a female composer, Amanda Rontgen Meier, who Frank discovered when he was researching the history of the violin as part of the 300th anniversary - she owned it for a time in the 1860s or so. And was a gifted yet mostly forgotten artist and composer who also died way too young. It was a gorgeous piece, and felt very true to my universe last night.