She had lived with my brother and his wife in rural Connecticut for several years; they had built a wing onto their house to accommodate her, which was nothing short of awesome; she never had to be in a nursing home. Since—I'm told—my brother was run ragged as a caregiver for Mom at the end in addition to his full-time job, I can only imagine both he and his wife are feeling relief tinged with guilt right now.
There isn't going to be a funeral; perhaps there will be a memorial at some later date, and my sister is sending me papers to sign so that my mother's ashes can be buried next to my father in the family plot in Connecticut.
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