Take a look at it from Teryy's point of view . . . she used to be a vibrant, beautiful girl . . . a very capable woman. And, in her point of view, in the blink of an eye . . . that all changed. She became (and I don't say the following in it's context to be cruel, it would be my point of view of myself if the same thing happened) a blithering shell of her former self. I would want to die, myself. She wasn't going to get better. Now if you couldn't react to any of the world around you . . . you'd be living life as though you were watching TV. Would YOU want to live like that? I sure as hell wouldn't. I'm praying for Terry's soul . . . I hope you all do the same.
Although I'm Italian, I find comfort in my memories of the deceased with this traditional Gaelic blessing . . . and you have to hear it the way my former church's choior sand it in order for the song to move THROUGH you . . . but this is the best I can do.
May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.