God protect her from the wolf.

We lost Dorothy Bell this morning.

She was my wife's grandmother. I lost my last grandparent in 1990, and it was invaluable to have a grandmotherly figure in my life for the last 11 years.

She was 96 years old; born the same day as Nelson Mandela, and she outlived him by one year. Not many people get as much as life as she had. Fewer still get as much out of life as she did. She remained vital up until the very end, and thankfully she didn't suffer that long. I'm mourning her now, but I'll celebrate her far more, and I don't suppose it will take long before the smiles surpass the tears.

I'm not sure if she would have liked this song, but if she didn't, I'm sure she would have smiled politely and been kind about it. Here with a 16th-century Spanish villancico, it's the Monkees. (If I had a dime for every time that sentence has been uttered...)

Ríu Chíu