This is more like what Aunt Abbie looked like when my grandmother knew her, though I have more pictures of her when she was younger.  Grandmother says Aunt Abbie is the kind of aunt everyone wishes they had - she always came for your birthday with presents and was endlessly patient when you were a little kid who wanted to do repetitive tasks over and over. 

The day Aunt Abbie died, one of my grandmother’s other aunts, Irene, called Grandmother to ask if she’d spoken to Abbie that day.  Grandmother said she hadn’t, and Irene, apparently unable to be the one to say the words, told Grandmother she ought to call over to Abbie’s house.

Grandmother called and said, “Hi, Aunt Abbie,” when the person on the other end answered the call but she quickly realized it was not her.

“Who is this?” the lady on the other end said.

Grandmother told her.  “It’s [name]!”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry, but you don’t have an Aunt Abbie anymore.”

Grandmother was too upset to handle going to the funeral.