This is a great story:
A year ago, Marcella Dubuque was preparing for what she believed would be her last Christmas.
A month earlier, she had been diagnosed with stage 3 cancer, the tumour that had been growing in her right breast had already invaded her lymph nodes. It was too advanced for surgery; chemotherapy would be the only treatment.
She was 76 years old.
So Lella, who pursued life with girlish enthusiasm, quietly accepted imminent death.
She got her financial affairs in order. She cleaned out her closet and cupboards and gave all the old clothes and unused dishes to charity. She picked out the Sunday dress she wanted to be buried in; a wash-and-wear paisley print with a pleated skirt. She told her husband and four children she did not want a wake, just a traditional Catholic funeral without eulogy or flowery obituary. Burial would be in her local cemetery in Walpole, Mass.“The acceptance was so total that there were no regrets, just gratitude for the life, for the family. Realizing how lucky I was,” she says.
Luck, however, can’t explain to her what happened next. Nor can medicine.
You’ll want to read it all. H/T New Advent