Who watches the Wedgeman?

My aunt Jane died this morning at around 1am. I miss her, I miss her a lot. Even though I knew it was going to happen, even though at times I was almost thinking that she should hurry up already, even though I knew that she's not suffering nearly as much now; I miss her. I was going to talk a bit more about what I've been doing in the last few months, but I'm not sure it's quite the time. This entry will get longer when I've had some time to collect my thoughts about her and I feel I'm able to express them properly. I'm closing this with a section where Morpheus speaks about Death from the Sandman story "The Sound of Her Wings" by Neil Gaiman:

'I find myself wondering about humanity. Their attitude to my sister's gift is so strange. Why do they fear the sunless lands? It is as natural to die as it is to be born. But they fear her. Dread her. Feebly they attempt to placate her. They do not love her.
Many thousands of years ago I heard a song in a dream, a mortal song that celebrated her gift. I still remember it... That forgotten poet understood her gifts. My sister has a function to perform, even as I do. The Endless have their responsibilities. I have responsibilities.
I walk by her side and the darkness lifts from my soul. I walk with her, and I hear the gentle beating of mighty wings...'