When she left she forgot to say goodbye. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. She really didn’t mean to leave the table and not come back. She would have never left before desert. She always had room for that.
When they found her in the snow she was wearing no shoes. They never found them either. She hadn’t taken her coat and in her hand they found a small rosary.
She had this thing for rosaries. They had to be small so she could carry them around in her purse. She wasn’t religious, though. She told me long ago that a rosary had saved her life and that since then she kept one with her, tucked away in a bag as a lucky charm.
I was heartbroken but not surprised. Finding her this way seemed almost natural. She had always talked about leaving very naturally. Perhaps, to have us all get used to the idea of her absence. She succeeded. We did mourn her and I still do, every day, but I respect her choice of “going for a quiet walk in the snow.”