Marie Joyce Elward

Today the world lost a shining light. Marie Joyce Elward, my grandmother who was always called “Gigi” by her family, left us to join her husband, Mel, and her many friends who have gone before her to the Beyond.

My family and I had gone up to visit her in her home, and were joined by my mother and my aunt. We all spent time sitting and talking with Gigi (who had long since slipped in to a coma, but we spent quite a lot of time talking to her anyway) for some time before we decided to head out. My family towards home and my mom and aunt to lunch. None of us were gone long before the nurse called to let us know that she had passed.

Opinions vary as to whether she just wanted some peace and quiet in her house so that she could get on with getting on; or if she was the consummate hostess until the end: she couldn’t leave until all of her guests had!

More rambling below the jump.

Inevitable Loss.

I find it amusing in a gallows humour kind of way that when surrounded by family members, with an incredibly loving wife available via a variety of mediums, and a whole host of understanding friends ready to lend an ear; I find myself turning to my blog — a blog which I have been woefully neglectful, of late, to try and work through my feelings.

I guess I’m a writer at heart after all. Who knew?

More rambling below the jump.

Farewell, 1tess.

I work for Automattic, the makers of amongst many other great products.

Every day, I spend my time answering questions from and fixing the blogs of our several million users in our online forum. My team and I would never be able to do so without the unflagging help of a small and dedicated group of volunteers who donate their time to people they will never meet and never hear from again.

Last week, one of their number passed.

1Tess, the moderator for our English forum (and a one-time applicant to Automattic as well), was purportedly online and helping users right up until she logged out to have a lay down, from which she sadly never got up.

She signed off of one of her last threads with final words of such beauty that . . . well, I hope that when it is my time I manage something half so poetic:

For now my brain is only moon-light, snow-storm, and dream-time.

Thank you, Tess. For all that we never met, you were always wonderful to me and I thank you for all you have ever done.