My 95 year old neighbor Jean died last week. She was more than a neighbor for over 30 years, not a close friend but a kindly adviser, gently guiding me through the hurdles of living in America and being a homeowner, a caregiver to an ailing husband, inept gardener.
For a week her house was dark, suddenly it was lit up, cars stood in the driveway. I went over there. Jean's 96 year old husband was there, as well as her four children, daughters-in-laws, sons -in-laws and many grandchildren. The house was alive with voices, activities, coming and going. Vernon and Jean came from Norwegian stock, tall, thin, good looking. The grandchildren carry those genes,all very tall, good complexion, regular features, nice, white teeth and very polite to this elderly neighbor of their grandmother.
In bed , last night I thought about this transition. The genetic legacy continues, Jean is gone but her family continues to thrive ,to live, to prosper and multiply.
Same with my husband's Danish family, his sons, taller and better looking than him and  his three grandsons even more handsome. Yet all carrying grandfather's characteristic features and genetic markings. All belonging to the same genetic pool.
I though about my family. My brother's three daughters and their 10 children, my eldest sister's three daughters and their 6 children,  my other sister's three daughters and their 5 children.  Boys and girls, all healthy, bright, pursuing various careers; pilots, managers in hospitality field,tech professionals, professors, writers, doctors, lawyers, future chefs.  All branches of the same family, same root, from my grandfather and my grandmother.
The garden will grow, though this gardener might not be around to cuddle the plants.
I slept peacefully.