Ave Maria

I am having the loveliest life time. I am sitting in my living room listening to le troisième de mes anges sing and play the piano. She has never taken a single piano lesson, yet she can play.

She is playing Ave Maria, and she is singing it opéra. High notes and all.

Sable is looking worried, perhaps a little scared, especially on the high notes. My heart is ready to burst, as always when I hear this song.

The song, if you don't know, is a religious song, blessing Mary and the fruit of her womb. People choose it quite often to play at their weddings. And yes, Gerry, there really is more than one version of the song.

I have chosen it to be sung at my funeral by my four truly amazing daughters, quatre signes de l'amour de Dieu pour moi. Four signs of God's love for me.

I've committed to dying at 98. I can't live to be 100 as Linda has vowed to celebrate my 100th birthday in high fashion, including photos. So, I must die before then and I can't die in my 99th year. So, 98 it is. So let it be written, so let it be done. Amen.

I can see the funeral in my mind's eye; hear the song. People will file in while songs of lesser emotion play in the background, ten friends (a lofty goal, to have ten by then), my sister and brother, their children and grandchildren, my grandchildren if I ever get any. My daughters will be sitting in the front row, full of grace and beauty; their spouses and children will be right behind them.

And then it will be time; the four of them will make their frail way up to the front. Music will start, and then...music will start. Their voices will reach me, wherever I am, singing this song that captured my heart so many years before - when Becky opened her tiny mouth and let the notes flow and float with the most amazing clarity and strength...into my soul, where they remain throughout eternity.

Blessed Mary, grace aplenty, Blessed is your fruit.