100 Years.

A century.
100 years.
10 decades.
1,200 months.
5,200 weeks.
36,253 days.
52,594,876 minutes.
All in all, a very very long time.
This is also the amount of time my great great grandmother was alive.

This morning, right around noon our time, she passed on. Sometime Friday her body started to shut down, first with her kidneys, and slowly progressing. By Friday evening she was comatose, never to wake again. Her blood pressure and heart rate slowly fell until it stopped all together this morning.
The last memories I have of this wonderful woman are two weekends ago, sitting at the table in my aunt and uncles house. She no longer had any memory, but she was up and about, eating and drinking on her own. The only medicine Lottie Morris needed in her age was something to keep her blood pressure normal. She was one lucky woman, for more reasons than that.
Her family stuck by her up until she was gone. Perpetually surrounded by people who loved her, a smile always played on her lips. Some of them she knew, some of them she didn't. It didn't matter. She knew they were family, and that they all loved her as much as she loved them.
I was never around enough to remember her when she still had her mind, though I've heard wonderful stories. Mostly about the kitchen. Any of the memories I do posses are all of her, standing in the kitchen, smiling down at me.
I've also heard of her faith. She taught Sunday School and attended church until she could no longer get up and prepare herself. Mami Jack, as I know her, loved God with all her heart, and served Him just as much as she could. She raised many children, all of them in church always, and still living off the faith of their mother.
As we grieve the loss of the sweetest woman any of us have ever met, there is some comfort to be found.. She is now Home, the only place she ever really wanted to be.