Saying goodbye in At the foot of the hill

For the last two weeks we had relatives in town. My dear late cousin’s two daughters were here tying up the last ends of their parents estate.
These ladies and their two younger brothers grew up in California and England but we did see them a few times when they were kids.
One lives in England. This one we know a little better having been guests at her home for Easter Dinner in 2000. The following Easter she happened to be here in the Denver area visiting her parents and we hosted them all for dinner. We had contact with her again when she was in town for her parents’ wedding anniversary celebration and again, of course for her father’s funeral and then a short time later when her mother passed.
The younger sister, a retired college professor, has a farm in Maryland where she raises sheep. Naturally, we had met her at the funerals, but had never, in my memory, really sat down and had a conversation with her.
Anyhow, long story short, they took a day off from their tasks to spend time with Bob and me. They had, in sorting out the last of their parents’ stuff that had been stored nearby, found papers and pictures which they thought I might like to have. They took us out to lunch and then came back to our place where we (mostly I) told story after story of our memories of their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents. The afternoon flew by and we were sad to say goodbye to them.
They flew away yesterday. It is unlikely that we will see them again.
Godspeed, dear Jean and Lynn.