My neighbor died

Nobody liked her. She was harsh and demanding and was estranged from her children. I heard from another neighbor that she never saw one of her grandchildren, even though they didn't live far away. 
I never had a problem with her but unlike the couple across the street—whom she had doing so much for her in her last years it became practically a part-time job for them, complete with a nasty boss, incomplete with no pay—she never demanded anything of me, perhaps because I have enough of my own health issues going on.
She came to visit a year and a half ago, after I broke my shoulder. She gave me expensive food, some of it I didn't even know what it was. One thing I haven't even opened because of that (see photo).

Some kind of pâté, I think.

A doctor at a good hospital, she was originally from India. I traveled there for a couple of months in 1990, and from what I saw then, I can imagine how hard she must have had to work to get her degree and succeed in America, how uncompromising she had to be. And being a dark-skinned, short woman in the Sixties and Seventies, when her practice got going, would have been like trench warfare without the trench. 
Not everything about someone's past can serve to exonerate them from things they do in the present, but in her case, I cut her some slack. I'm sorry she didn't patch things up with her kids. I hope she felt good about what she did with her life. Her Christian faith was very strong, and I hope it gave her much comfort toward the end.